Wedding
by Oh Dee
Summary: Its Haruhi's wedding day... and she doesn't even know. [TamakiHaruhi] [Spoilers for Episodes 25&26 through out Chapter 7]
1. In Which the King Relays His Idea

Title: Wedding  
Author: PaperButterfly  
Pairings: Tamaki/Haruhi of course!  
Rating: PG 13  
Summary:  
_**Its Haruhi's wedding day… and she doesn't even know.**_

**DISCLAIMER:** If I owned this, Tamaki and Haruhi would have been married with thirteen children. Unfortunately, they aren't married, and nor do they have thirteen kids. So we must all assume that I do not own Bisco Hatori's creation. Nor am I Bisco Hatori. If I were… well, really, there would be no need for me to make a pointless fanfiction.

* * *

**Chapter One  
**_In Which the King Relays His Brilliant Idea_

"Lord, it's really a stupid idea," the Hitachiin twins were saying simultaneously, one on each side of the King's side, their arms draped over the chair's back, equal sadistic grins on their faces.

The King, also known as Tamaki Suoh, waved their worries away with his hand, crossing his legs at the same time. He cocked his head to the side, blonde bangs falling to cover his eyes. The grand design of the chair he sat in appearing behind his head as he leaned to the left, making it seem as if it were a throne made of gold. "You all must have more faith in me!" he declared dramatically, closing his violet eyes before opening them just as quickly, staring directly at Honey, Mori, and Kyouya, who all stood before him in a line of susceptible subjects, though their expressions differed. Honey, of course, looked as cute as a button (or maybe something cuter, for those of you who dislike buttons) while Mori looked as stoic as ever (and terribly handsome too). Kyouya, of course, looked quite calm, too calm, though a flash of irritation passed by his face lightening fast.

He stared at the King for a moment before sighing and opening up his notebook, scribbling something down in its pages. "You're ideas are completely prone to failure and I have decided that you are unable to make any sense."

The King gasped, hurt, violet eyes beginning to water. "But this idea will work, I assure you! And, think of it, our customers would love to see such a great—" He wasn't allowed to finish.

"Will there be cake?" Honey asked, his beautiful, large eyes watering in anticipation, his mouth set in a line as he gripped his shirt. He seemed to be floating in the air, his eagerness giving him super human powers.

The King nodded fervently, smiling widely. "Of course! A wedding is not a wedding without a cake!"

Honey broke into a huge smile as he pranced around the room, singing, "Cake, cake, cake!" loudly even as Mori followed him to make sure the "young" boy did not trip on a banana peel and break his lovely face. Those banana peels were beginning to become a problem for the Host Club… but that's another story.

Hikaru, the older twin, merely shook his head. "Actually, Lord, a wedding is not a wedding without the bride." He wiggled his eyebrow suggestively, nodding at the King.

"I'm not dressing up as a girl this time!" Kaoru, the younger twin, declared.

Tamaki laughed wholeheartedly, eyes sparkling. "Now, now, no need to worry my fellow subjects! I have our bride!"

The original five members of the Host Club (not including Tamaki, of course, seeing as he was the one relaying the information and not the one receiving it) stopped what they were doing to stare at the mad King, trying to figure out if what he was saying could possibly be true. Honey was also thinking about cake, and sweets, and strawberries…

"Not…" Hikaru breathed, eyes widening.

"She'll never agree," Kyouya said, scribbling furiously into the notorious notebook that is ever present in any of the Club's doings. Hopefully, though, the notebook did not find itself accompanying Kyouya to the restroom, seeing as that would be far too awkward, even for an inanimate object.

"Not even for ootoro," Kaoru agreed, nodding, coming to stand by his brother's side.

For a moment, Tamaki flew to his corner of dejection, striking the pose of an ignored host, as he usually did when he was rejected and completely ignored. He brooded for a few minutes, having the Host members stare at him curiously. Then he stood and turned around to face the other five members.

The King winked at them, settling back into his chair, his eyes regaining their usual sparkle. "That is why, subjects, she will not know."

* * *

Haruhi had been ushered into a dark room somewhere in the Third Music Room the moment she had entered. She was in a cramped corner, tied to a chair, mouth gagged and stuffed with a cotton rag that tasted a bit like peppermint. Although the scene and predicament should have frightened her more, she was more angry than upset and terrified. She was also an unusual girl, and the things girls were usually upset and terrified over were usually things she could take quite calmly. And she was much better with anger.

And torment.

_The moment those twins return_, she was thinking, gritting her teeth against the cotton ball thrust into her mouth, _I'm going to peel their skin off._ It was most definitely a violent thought, but she believed the two Little Devils to be deserving of such treatment. In the back of her mind, she also believed the Idiot (or King, whatever it was he called himself those days) was behind this. The twins, however clever, would not specifically set out to kidnap her unless the precious leader of the Host Club had set them to it.

Haruhi remained that way (tied and gagged, not so violent!) for a few more minutes before a door opened and a sliver of light peeked through, lighting up the remainder of the room, illuminating some mannequins in the other corner. Two pairs of footsteps echoed around the room and Haruhi had to squint her eyes to figure out who were the people coming to bother her at such a stressful time.

"Ha-ru-hi!" came the voices of the two twins, who she was already imagining walking around skinless. She also imagined the customers screaming in delight at seeing the twins in "new attire."

"We're here to rescue you," Hikaru explained, taking a pose by her right side, hands placed triumphantly on his hips.

"But," Kaoru began, "you have to agree to some conditions first."

Haruhi glared at the two and began to speak only to notice that they were not going to understand a word she was going to say (though she was sure they understood that they were not very pleasant words what with the way her eyes were dangerously narrowed).

Hikaru sighed and untied the handkerchief around her mouth then proceeded to remove the cotton rag ball used to silence her further.

"How can you be rescuing me if you were the ones who put me in here in the first place?"

"Technicalities," Kaoru said, dismissing her accusation with a roll of his eyes. "We're really here to speak business."

"We're planning to put on a play," Hikaru explained, his face close to Haruhi's, his lips near her ears. His hot breath tickled her slightly, making her eyes widen.

"And we need you to participate," Kaoru continued, his own face near Haruhi's other cheek, his lips breathing near her ears, ruffling the tiny hairs that were tucked behind it.

She grunted. "No."

Hikaru shrugged and straightened himself out, Kaoru following. "I suppose we just can't help then," the older brother explained, moving towards the wall where the door had opened earlier, though it was closed now.

"Get me out of here!" Haruhi yelled after the brothers as Kaoru nodded and began walking to his brother.

"You have to agree," Kaoru told her, smirking devilishly, eyes depicting all sorts of evils.

"It's going to be embarrassing," Haruhi said, taking on the look she wore as she analyzed and thought of things. "So no."

"Then no can do," both brothers said. Hikaru already had his hand on the doorknob and it was ready to turn.

Haruhi was thinking frantically. If it was a play, there would be dressing up and most probably a ridiculous script constructed by the Hitachiin brothers and Kyouya. Grimacing as she remembered the love letter "she" had given Toru, the man who was heir to a great teacup making company, she quickly shook off the idea of agreeing.

"I can't," she said, struggling to free her hands from the binds before they opened the door and locked her in. Again.

The brothers shrugged.

In a last effort, Haruhi called out, "Is it Tamaki-senpai's idea?"

The brothers nodded in unison, their eyes revealing how bored they were of the game they had only begun.

"Then it's most definitely a no."

Then the brothers left, leaving Haruhi alone in her darkness (and now, despair).

* * *

_AN: Hello there, fellow Ouran High School Host Club fans! Another story for you all to enjoy (although it is not as good as many others that are offered here on this wonderful fan fiction place._

_This is my first Ouran Host Club fanfic (once you're done frying me on an open fire, please dunk me in barbeque sauce, as I believe I will taste much better) so do not be so harsh, although I would love some feed back. The characters are a little off, but I tried to remain true to these wonderfully silly characters._

_I only watch the anime and have never (ever, ever, ever, ever) picked up the manga. Nor do I plan to._

_Aright, onto the reviews! Reviews make me happy. No reviews make me sad. This make Andy-chan angry, and so Andy-chan will probably do something very, very bad._


	2. In Which the Heroine is Stuck

Chapter Two  
_In Which the Heroine Finds Herself in a Troubling Situation_

Haruhi felt better now that the cotton rag ball was out of her mouth and she was able to grit her teeth better at the mannequins in the room. She gave them the stare down, where her chocolate brown eyes were dangerously narrowed and sending a thousand evils their way, only half-hoping they would burst into flames and allow her a means of escaping. Although she felt calmer, she did not appreciate the fact that the mannequins all lacked heads, but she had to make do with what she was given. Besides, the mannequins served for wonderful practice, and at least she was free to imagine the responses she would receive when giving the real live, breathing humans in the other room her look.

After about an hour (or was it a lifetime? She couldn't quite tell), Haruhi was feeling rather uncomfortable, seeing as her wrists were still tied to the armrest, and the rope now seemed much smaller and was cutting into her circulation, leaving red and purple imprints on her pale skin. She was free to shout in the room, but she doubted that the Host Club, who were so wonderful (she nearly gagged at the exaggeration), would remain behind at school just to take care of her.

Well, it didn't hurt to try.

"You better get me out of here! I will break this chair into a million pieces and break down this door with all these mannequins in here if you don't untie me this instant!" Now that the words were bouncing off the walls, the heroine of this story felt much better. A little upset, certainly, but nevertheless better.

Suddenly, the door creaked open. A tall shadow was thrown over the sliver of light and a deep voice reached her ears. "If you do that, Host-That-Owes-Us-Money, you'll be further into debt and you may actually accumulate all that which you had already worked off."

Haruhi groaned. "The power of the Shadow King."

Kyoya stepped further into the room, glasses reflecting the light, making it hard for Haruhi to see his eyes, which were probably twinkling with delight at inflicting money debt torture upon her. "It wasn't our plan to keep you tied in here."

The brown haired girl rolled her eyes impatiently. "Then why am I still here?"

Kyouya shrugged and gestured at her. "You didn't quite agree to our terms."

Haruhi gave a breath of impatience. "I don't want to be involved in a stupid play! Make Honey have my part. He can pass off for a girl."

A hand snaked up to move Kyoya's glasses down the bridge of his nose, giving him the ability to stare down at her with the perfect balance of irritation and annoyance written in his eyes. "He doesn't exactly look sixteen. You, however, do."

Haruhi's eyebrow shot up in bewilderment. "I do?"

Kyouya shrugged. "No. I was just trying to make a point."

The heroine exhaled loudly, clearly annoyed. "Well, just go then. Go on, walk out of here and abandon me in this room."

"Leave the theatrics and dramatics for the King." Kyouya stared at her curiously before walking to the door. He paused there, turning his head to stare at her again, eyes taking her in. "You look very vulnerable like that."

She laughed bitterly. "That's great."

"I'll cut your debt by a third."

Haruhi's eyes widened and she nodded her head fervently. "Fine! Just get me out!"

Kyouya smirked. "Oh no, that's not my job. My job is to get you to agree, not to get you out of the room." He then pushed open the door and walked out, closing it gently behind him. Once he was sure he had closed the door correctly, Kyouya made his way to the King and whispered in his ear, "She's agreed."

"Perfect!" Tamaki's smile split his face and revealed an even more handsome young man. But the smile disappeared a second later as his eyes roamed the expanse of the Third Music Room. A tiny frown seemed to start pulling at his lips. "But where is she?"

Kyouya smirked evilly, using his pen to point at the direction of the door that led into Haruhi's "cell." Then he said, "She's still inside."

Tamaki's frown grew. "Why?"

"It wasn't my job to untie her. Mine was to make her agree."

Tamaki grunted. He pushed himself out of his chair and cleared his throat. "Very well, gentlemen! I will go untie our unwilling heroine!"

Honey, who was sitting at a round, golden table laughed with glee, crumbs of cake sticking to his chin. "Yay, Tama-chan!"

Mori reached over and wiped the "young" boy's chin with a white lace handkerchief. "You had crumbs on your chin," he said to Honey's inquiring gaze.

"Thank you, Takashi!"

Tamaki shook his head. "I shall be back in only a moment! If I am not back in a matter of half an hour, please, run for safety! I would have died to save her and all of you."

Hikaru, who was lounging on a chair lazily, his leg draped over his brother's lap, said, "There isn't a dragon in there. Well, unless you count Haruhi, that is."

Tamaki nodded, blonde locks billowing in the nonexistent wind that always managed to end up in a closed music room. "Off I go."

"Make sure to tell her about the play," Kyouya called after Tamaki, who had already begun to jog the short distance to the door and was ready to pull it open and step inside.

Inside the "cell" of sorts, Haruhi sat, completely annoyed and now ready to tear the hair out of whoever else strode into the room. By luck, Tamaki stepped inside, golden hair glowing eerily, violet eyes twinkling in delight. Haruhi groaned, her annoyance deepening.

Fate seemed to love throwing cruel jokes at her.

Ah well, she always did want to find a reason to hit her senpai. Now, she found it.

"Get me out of here," she demanded, eyes reflecting anger.

Tamaki cringed in fright, slowly backing into a corner. "H-Haruhi, now don't be mad—"

"Don't be mad?" Her voice had risen to another level with such force that it sent Tamaki reeling back into one of the mannequins, making him fall on the floor, under the broken arm of the gray and lifeless replicate of a body. "How can I not be mad? You guys have me tied up in a room!"

"For negotiating purposes!" Tamaki exclaimed, trying to defend his Host Club as well as himself. The brown haired beauty may not have been loose and tearing out his wonderful hair, but her eyes would surely set him on fire.

"To be in a play?"

"Yes!"

"Just untie me. I've already agreed."

Tamaki nodded slowly, disentangling himself from the mannequin's arm and standing to his full height. He made his way to her and stopped only a few feet away from her. He bowed elegantly, hand forming a sweeping gesture. "My lady."

She looked bored. "What?"

He coughed slightly. He didn't expect that response. He wanted something more of a joyful giggle accompanied with a, "Oh, my savior! I give myself up to you!"

Ah well, his Innermind Theatre was late in the times.

His hands turned clumsy as he tried to untie the ropes that bound Haruhi to her chair. His fingertips brushed along the skin of her wrist, making him turn a blushing red. The more he touched of her skin, the more he wanted to run away in fright as the butterflies beat madly against his stomach.

Haruhi watched Tamaki in a daze, her eyes growing heavy, the skin Tamaki's fingers brushed against seeming to tingle. Her body felt as if it were lit on fire, but she reasoned that it was the anger boiling inside her that made her feel that way. Finally, when the ropes gave way, she leaped out of her chair, sending it backwards, and knocked herself against Tamaki, hands pushing at his chest. She wanted him to fall to the ground so she could step on him and then walk away, but she hadn't counted on her own body falling against his.

They fell to the ground with a loud thud. Tamaki faintly remembered such thing happening, except he was on top of her and she was groaning under his weight, complaining that he was too heavy. Now the tables were turned, and he felt as if he never wanted to leave. She was light as a feather, and just as soft to touch too.

"Haruhi?"

She was blushing as well, her hands still pressed against his chest as she used him as her cushion. She tried to lift herself but her arms proved too weak to support her, sending her crashing back into his chest. "I'm sorry," she mumbled darkly.

"That's okay."

Her brown eyes lifted, staring at him curiously. "About being heavy."

He choked on his breath. "You're not heavy."

She rolled her eyes. "I can't get up."

He sighed, a dazed look coming to take over his face. "I don't want you to."

She groaned. "Senpai."

He shook his head, felt his arms come around her, pulling her closer into him. His fingertips were pressed against her waist, the curve of it eliciting a sigh from him. "Stay with me?"

Haruhi's eyes widened and she wiggled in his embrace. "No!"

Tamaki felt himself wake from a dream and he quickly let her go. "Sorry, Haruhi. I didn't mean—"

Haruhi pushed herself out of his arms and stood on wobbly knees. "Let's just go." She lifted herself to her feet and turned towards the door, only to find it closed. Tight. And giggling insanely.

Since when did doors such like the one that led into her capture room giggle?

Her frown deepened as she walked to the door, placing her ear against it. The snickering grew louder.

She growled.

"Hikaru, Kaoru! Open this door this instant!"

The snickering stopped only to be replaced with eager shuffling away from the door.

She could count on those damn twins to do something silly and immature like that. Although she was probably one of the youngest in the Host Club, she was like one of the oldest when it came to maturity. The only two that could possibly be ahead of her were Kyouya and Mori, but that was because Mori had to take care of Honey and Kyouya was evil.

She turned back to Tamaki, who had stood up in the time it had taken her to get to the door. His face looked as if it had been smeared with red paint, clashing terribly with his brilliant blonde hair. "They locked the door."

Tamaki's face regained its usual color as he cleared his throat and moved to her. He gently pushed her away by placing a hand on her shoulder, steering her clear from the door. He cracked his knuckles (and winced at the pain) as he had seen commoners do in movies. He then called,

"Hikaru and Kaoru, you will open this door right now!"

"No can do, milord. We were given orders not to."

"Mom!" Tamaki's commanding voice was replaced by his whiny one. "Make them open the door.

"Not until you explain the play to Haruhi."

Tamaki paled. He knew he was going to die.

He turned to face Haruhi, who was glaring at him. "What is the play about?" she asked, suddenly regretting ever agreeing to take part of it, even with the debt being cut by a third.

"Well…"

"Senpai." The way she said it made him burst into uncontrollable shuddering.

"Sit down, Haruhi." She stared at him. "Please," he added, gesturing at the floor, not at the comfortable chair, afraid of what it may imply and what she would do to him with that sort of implication.

"Tell me," she demanded, her soft voice clear, ringing in his ears. He wanted nothing more than to kiss her soft, inviting pink lips, which were currently turned downwards in a small frown.

"The play is called… 'Wedding.'"

"Wedding?" she repeated, her mouth opening and closing like that of a fish's out of water struggling to breathe. She felt her heart thumping quickly against her chest. She was starting to dread what character she would have to play.

"Yes." The King nodded his head in agreement, blonde hair blowing this way and that. "Wedding."

"Wedding." It wasn't a question, like the first time. It was a statement, one that sounded angry and annoyed. Like she felt.

He nodded once more.

"So we have the title settled," she snapped angrily, rushing the conversation along. Her brown eyes seemed to be burning. "What character will I play?" _Oh, Mother in Heaven, how I'm dreading the answer to this._

"The bride." Tamaki's voice was so small, so insecure that Haruhi had to strain herself to hear it.

"The bride," she repeated, her eyes widening slowly, a pink tinge claiming her cheeks.

"Kaoru will play your mother, Hikaru your father. Honey the ring bearer. Mori the best man. Kyouya the priest." Tamaki was sweatdropping uncontrollably, perspiration bubbling along his skin. Had he been conscious of how he looked, he would have run out the room and into the bathroom in order to ready himself. But he was blissfully (or maybe not) unaware of how terrible he looked.

"And you?" Haruhi's voice seemed etched out of stone.

"The groom."

"Mother in Heaven," was all Haruhi could muster to say as she closed her eyes and leaned against the wall she had proper herself against, a soft thud resounding through the room as the back of her head connected with the plaster.

"Haruhi?" Tamaki's voice was shrill as he crawled his way to Haruhi, hands outstretched to touch her. He coiled back when she moved and growled at him.

"I can't believe I agreed to this," she mumbled angrily.

"It's for the customers, Haruhi!"

"I'm leaving," was the heroine's response as she climbed to her feet and walked to the door. When she reached it, she began to pound on it, screaming at the top of her lungs, much like a child would do in a candy store when their parents told them they could not have the sweet in mind.

Now that I think about it, Haruhi acted as one would expect Honey to act when deprived of his sweets, ready to claim any random person's hand as food.

The door opened and Haruhi stormed out, leaving Tamaki alone to wallow in misery in his lonely, dark corner. Much like she regularly did, except this time, Tamaki knew he had earned it.

* * *

_AN: There you have it, the second chapter to wedding. I know the characters seem a little off, but its hard to keep in character when all I want them to do is makeout and act like rabid bunnies. However, any reviews would be welcome. Encouragement is appreciated and criticism as well as I want to get better at writing and such reviews will only help with my goal._

_Now, go off my little bunnies, and review until your fingers ache! (Preferably, you would review my story.)_

_Also, I would love you all to death, seeing as my birthday is tomorrow and reviews would be like a great birthday gift for me._


	3. In Which the Twins Decide to Teach

**DISCLAIMER:** If I owned Ouran High School Host Club, I would be rich and would have no need to spend my time in such commoner places such as this site. However, as you can see, I am on this site, so we can therefore assume my poor commoner arse does not own Ouran.

* * *

Chapter Three  
_In Which the Twins Decide to Teach Haruhi_

One might say that when a girl is upset, it is best to leave her alone. Some girls will disagree and claim that they would rather someone speak to them and try to calm them down rather than let them be all alone in their impending misery. Other girls will demand that you leave them alone unless you wish your genitals to be harmed in ways that will render you forever useless.

Haruhi happened to be one of the demanding girls. The ones that would not hesitate when chopping off the valuable parts of her lover if she found him with another woman.

Although she did not threaten to do something as horrid as that, she did give the remaining Host Club the look of a thousand evils as she stomped her way across the halls, polished shoes leaving scuff marks against the beautiful pink floor. Her arms were crossed over her chest, brown hair falling to her face, covering the chocolate eyes that had once been calm and were now seething and flashing fire. Had she been one of those monsters from Greek Mythology, she would most likely be related to Medusa, turning any person who stared at her long enough into stone, only so she could kick the frozen body around until it broke to pieces.

Kyouya, who stood beside a pillar, brought out his notebook, stared at the floor and the black marks that raced across the length of it, and made three definite and bold marks in the notebook paper, his glasses reflecting the light and making it impossible to read (or see, for that matter) his expression. After he was done, he went on staring after Haruhi, the pen in his hand tapping against the notebook.

Haruhi did not appreciate being placed into such a position as playing the "lead" role. She generally hated plays. The over dramatics and the terrible acting only made it seem more and more fake, making the entire experience worthless, pointless and utterly time consuming. The money she spent on a play could be easily put to something else more valuable and needed.

So why on earth did she agree to such a thing?

The thought escaped her as she felt a tug on her pant legs, blonde hair poking out from behind, large golden eyes staring at her curiously. She could even see bunny ears poking out from under armpits.

"Haru-chan, Haru-chan! Why are you upset? Don't you want to be in the play with us?"

Haruhi stared at Honey with such cold eyes that he immediately let go of her pant leg and proceeded to take three steps back, bumping lightly against Mori-senpai's knees.

"No," she answered forcefully, her tone just as cold as her eyes.

Tears welled up in the small boy's eyes, his arms encircling his bunny and squeezing the stuffed toy close to his chest. A moment later, he was wailing, running into the waiting arms of his cousin.

The only girl of the Host Club (well, the only girl not counting Renge) huffed and puffed, hardly caring that she had made the oldest member of the club cry. She was far too upset and angry to give a damn. Okay, so she felt a tiny bit guilty, seeing as he was the only male there that considered her feelings more than others.

It was then that she felt arms draping over her shoulder, two bodies pressing into her from the side. The Hitachiin twins were smirking devilishly as they pulled her away from the other members, drawing her nearer to the Corner of Woe Tamaki usually crawled to when upset and rejected. Of course, there were many other Corners of Woe found around the Third Music Room, but the corner the twins had pulled our heroine to was a much more common Woe Corner than any other.

"Haruhi," came Kaoru's soft voice, his breath tickling her ear.

"You can't just go making Honey cry," Hikaru reprimanded, shoving her gently away from them and into the corner, the back of her heel touching the wall.

"So what, you're going to put me in time out?" Haruhi snapped, her voice oozing sarcasm. She was trying to keep herself calm and collected, but everyone in the Host Club seemed to more about the role she was supposed to play than anyone else. It wasn't a new feeling, really, she reminded herself as images of two twins abducting her and taking her to a man-made paradise paraded across her mind.

The twins both turned to give each other affirmative looks, ones that Haruhi had come to dread. As she took both twins in, she suddenly realized that that was the look that their twin maids gave her when changing her.

Oh, dear.

"Haruhi, you do realize that in weddings, the bride and groom…" Kaoru didn't finish his sentence, letting his voice trail off into nothingness.

Haruhi stared at the younger twin blankly. "Get married, I would assume."

Hikaru sighed exasperatedly. "They kiss at the end of the ceremony, dummy!"

"No they don't," the brown haired girl answered with an incredulous laugh, her eyes narrowing as she gave a good, loud chuckle. She stopped when she noticed the twins weren't laughing. They usually would. "They don't, right?"

"Haruhi, Haruhi." The older twin took a stand beside Haruhi, his arms encircling her and bringing her closer to him, crushing her face into his chest. "How terrible of you to be denied such knowledge of what would go on in a wedding! Oh, the bad luck of being a commoner!"

The girl that was "denied such knowledge as what would go on in a wedding" merely wiggled in Hikaru's arms, using her small hands to push him away. "I don't exactly have much family to attend weddings for. And family friends wouldn't exactly have a traditional wedding, would they?"

Both twins stopped their sobbing to stare at her, understanding filling their eyes. "O-o-oh," they both said, drawing out the sound of the O for a long time. All three Host members seemed to have the same face crowding their mind, a man dressed like a woman who oddly resembled the girl Host and acted very similarly to the King.

She rolled her eyes, trying to shake away her father's face from her mind. "So what was the point of dragging me here? To tell me that weddings involve kissing and—" Sudden understanding (and resentment) filled her eyes as they widened with terror. "You can't possibly mean that I… I have to…"

Kaoru nodded. "That's right. As a bride, you will have to kiss the groom."

Haruhi gasped, a hand flying to hide her mouth. She could suddenly see herself standing before a large crowd of Ouran students, dressed as a bride even though she was supposed to be a male, Tamaki-senpai's lips pressing ever closer… "No! I refuse! I won't do it."

"But you have to!" Hikaru demanded.

"You can't make me!" she spat, her face etched out of determination.

"We can't, but Kyouya can," Kaoru reminded her gently, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

She sighed, leaning back against the wall. "And then I ask myself why I don't have a normal life."

"But you don't have to worry," Hikaru assured her, placing his own hand on her other shoulder. "We can help." The smirk was back. On both almost-identical faces.

Haruhi dreaded to know what was coming next. But curiosity always did get the best of her. "How?"

The twins maneuvered her into the corner, making it impossible for the other Host members to see what was going on as a pillar blocked their view.

"Now," Kaoru said, crossing his arms over his chest. "You mustn't go insane on us."

"She already is," was what Hikaru mumbled under his breath. Haruhi shot him a look of death.

"But please try to work with us. We can't do this alone."

"Do what?" Haruhi demanded.

Hikaru answered the question by placing his lips on hers, quieting her and causing her to lean against the wall again. With wide eyes, she saw how close Hikaru's face was, and the slight little blemish across his cheek. Kaoru was standing by, observing critically before interrupting. "No, no, no! You're doing it all wrong, Haruhi!"

Hikaru leaned away, smirking just as Haruhi quickly moved her head back, causing it to bump against the wall. Haruhi fumed, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as the other made its way to rub the bump that was forming.

"When you kiss someone," Kaoru explained, "you must close your eyes!"

"I don't want to kiss anyone!" was Haruhi's "brilliant" retort.

"You don't have much of a choice in a wedding," Hikaru told her.

"Alright, so we have the first rule down: close your eyes. Now, for the second. A good kiss involves working the lips! You can't be limp and leave your lips lifeless so that it looks like the guy (or girl, whatever) are playing around with dead meat. But your lips can't be so tight that it feels like the guy or girl are kissing a wall. It must be firm but plush." Kaoru had taken on the roll of teacher, and he was playing the part excellently as he looked down his nose at the girl.

"You do realize that made no sense. It was an oxymoron. You can't be two opposite things at once," Haruhi said, her voice bored and lacking all enthusiasm. She seemed no longer terrified of the older twin's actions.

"Yes you can. Look at Honey. Evil demon but so cute it shouldn't be legal. Or Tamaki. Obnoxious and self-centered but selfless when it comes to others," Kaoru explained, turning to look at his twin.

The twin in question let out a breath of hot air from his nostrils. "She's so uncooperative. As much practice as Tamaki has had with this sort of thing, I'm sure he's also expecting it to be good on her part."

Haruhi's eyes widened and she raised a hand to block her face. "W-what?"

"Well, this isn't for any other purpose other than the play," Kaoru told her.

Hikaru smiled, eyes dancing. "Do you really think I want to kiss an inexperienced little thing like you?"

"Inexperienced?" Haruhi demanded, utterly shocked. "That's—"

Hikaru was pressing against Kaoru, the younger brother with his back against the wall. "This is a proper kiss, Haruhi, so pay attention. Keeping eye contact up until the moment of the kiss is essential." Once finished, he turned his attention back to his brother, identical eyes staring into one another. "Kaoru…"

"Oh, Hikaru," Kaoru breathed, his eyes becoming heavy and half-way closing. Haruhi could see the older brother's lips drawing ever nearer, and she was suddenly feeling a strange sense of anticipation, and she felt like jumping around, clutching her heart, screaming "Brotherly Love!" at the top of her lungs. But she couldn't. This act would go to waste, and the information she would gain far outweighed the dancing.

"I think that's enough, you two," came Kyouya's strict but calm voice, cutting clean across the two bodies that would have molded into one. "If you continued, we'd have yet another Brotherly Love fanatic in our midst."

Haruhi scoffed, her eyes slowly sliding to the corners. "Don't make me laugh."

The twins smiled and both stood up straight. "See, that's the way to do it!"

Haruhi rolled her eyes and walked away from them, throwing a look of distaste Kyouya's way for interrupting such a wonderful scene as the one she was witnessing.. "I don't know why I continue staying here. My brain cells are dropping dead every time one of these boys speak."

Hikaru frowned. "That's not very nice," he whispered to his brother, rather insulted.

"Ah well, at least we taught her well."

"I suppose. Still, it's really all up to our Lord."

* * *

"Haruhi?" 

The brown haired girl turned slowly, short hair fluttering slightly in nonexistent wind. Her brown eyes met those of Tamaki's, his dark violet eyes staring deeply into hers. He was standing up tall, back rigid, arms to the side, face half hidden by shadow.

"Senpai?"

He cleared his throat. "I am sorry for not informing you about the conditions of the play. As your Daddy, it was my responsibility. You are free to drop out of this endeavor without any consequences. Your debt will be unaffected."

She took a step back from him, completely surprised. "What?"

"You don't have to participate. This was a stupid idea of mine and I would understand if you decided to go against it. I'd rather you not participate in one thing than leave us forever."

Haruhi stared at her senpai, at the way he stared back, the way his blonde locks fell forward and covered his left eye, the way his hands were shaking. "Why?"

It seemed this question surprised him, seeing as he took a step back himself and his beautiful eyes widened. "B-because I don't want you to be mad at me." He was staring at her so intently that she shivered delicately under his gaze. Her eyes found themselves wandering to his quivering lips, and for some strange, mind boggling reason, she wanted to touch those lips with her fingers, if only to get them to stop their quivering, to make him feel secure, to assure him she didn't quite hate him as much as she would like.

"That's all? You will allow me to abandon a project that would surely bring even more fame to this club and extra money? Just to make sure I am not angry?" She couldn't quite believe his answer.

He nodded. "Isn't that the right answer?" he asked uncertainly.

She smiled slightly, her lips curving against her cheeks. "I suppose. I'll stay, anyway. I mean, kissing Hikaru shouldn't go to waste like that, should it?"

Tamaki's eyes narrowed dangerously and looked past her to where the "innocent" older twin stood, back towards the couple. "What?" She could already see his Inner Mind theatre working overtime.

Haruhi looked confused. "Hikaru was trying to show me how to give a proper kiss. Did you know that at the end of weddings, couples usually kiss to seal the pact of marriage? I find it a tad bit ridiculous, but that's what the twins told me."

The next sounds that could be heard were the terrible battle cries (wailings, if you would like it to be more accurate) of the King beating one of his "jesters" senseless, except it wasn't turning out quite how the Lord had predicted. And like always, his plans ended up messing up terribly before they worked themselves out.

Haruhi didn't mind abandoning the fallen King and the awkwardly sprawled Hikaru. She was much more interested in returning home to deal with the other man in her life. And to inform him of the play she was going to take part in. And see him have a heart attack while claiming he was going to die early because of all the drama.

She was dreading it.

* * *

**AN:**_ I'm so cool, so you should leave me a review. Thank you to all the reviews, they make me feel so special. And an extra special thank you to everyone who wished me a happy birthday. So please, go on and review. You know you all want to._


	4. In Which Ranka Learns the Truth

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own Ouran. If I did, the manga would be depicting steamy sex scenes between Tamaki and Haruhi. So, since the manga doesn't have those type of scenes, it is safe to say that I do not own them. Though if I did, they would be doing very naughty, naughty things!

* * *

Chapter Four  
_In Which Ranka Learns the Truth_

Haruhi arrived home with little time to spare before dinner. Once she was done removing her shoes at the doorway, and after having changed into more comfortable attire consisting of sweatpants that hung low and loose on her waist and a large shirt she was sure had belonged to her father when he was still a man, she made her way to the kitchen, taking things out of the cabinets before she reached the refrigerator. Opening it, she looked inside through the three shelves and the contents stowed away inside, sifting through the many packed products she had bought at the supermarket the weekend before.

She decided on a simple dinner she could whip up in a matter of minutes that would still fill her (and her father) up well to last the rest of the night until morning. She began to throw things together, sticking it into the microwave and setting the timer to two minutes. The brown haired girl simply stared at the illuminated screen, eyes widening as they followed the circular motions of the dish inside. The sound of a door opening and closing filled her ears, distracting her momentarily and making her look towards the door, watching from behind the pillar as pumps were thrown carelessly beside her own black shoes.

"Ha-ru-hi!" Her name was sung in a lilting voice by a man in his late thirties with long reddish-brown hair that cascaded to his waist, hands popping out the buttons of his fitted blazer. His skirt swung around his knees, making him appear much like a woman.

_Mother in Heaven_, Haruhi prayed silently, brown eyes casting upwards to stare at the ceiling. _This family is twisted._

"Father, I'm in here!" Haruhi said, turning back to the microwave as the timer let out a sound signaling the dish inside was done. Taking a rag in her hand, she reached inside and took out a purple and blue plate and set it on the table, dinner being served.

"Oh, ramen!" Her father came to stand beside her, a hand reaching over to squeeze her shoulder lightly. "It looks delicious!"

She nodded. "Remember to savor it as much as you can," she reminded gently, taking a seat at the table, tucking her legs under her. "The doctor said that you can't eat too much—"

Her father waved her worries away with his perfectly manicured hand, laughing slightly. "Don't worry about that, Haruhi! Now," he paused as he picked up his chopsticks, staring at the bowl in front of him greedily, "let's eat, eh?"

Ranka's daughter rolled her eyes as she did what her father said, eating her food silently, just like she did every night. As she stared at the noodles, an image of her senpai attacking commoner ramen raced through her mind and she gagged, placing the chopsticks on the table and spilling her food. She pushed the bowl away from her and closed her eyes, fingers pressing at her temples to relieve the pressure.

"What's wrong, Haruhi?"

She opened an eye to stare at her father looking at her worriedly, one of his hands reaching over to try to touch her and comfort her. She shrugged and moved out of reach, taking the bowl into her hand and standing to her full height. She went to the sink and dumped the contents, watching the noodles slither down the drain.

"Haruhi? Tell father what's wrong!"

The brown haired girl shook her head and turned around. "Nothing," she said in her calm voice, heading towards where her room was.

"What is it? Please tell Daddy!"

She stopped, hands clenched to her sides, invisible smoke rolling out of her ears and nostrils. "Dad, it's nothing. Just… forget it."

Her father was undeterred in his mission to find out what was bothering his calm daughter. He trailed into her room after her, tiptoeing silently, avoiding bumping into her. She stopped, turned her head and rolled her eyes and he responded with a smile. He then sat on her bed, patting the seat beside him gently. Sighing, Haruhi took a seat beside her father, allowing the older man to wrap an arm her, to pull her closer to him.

She didn't understand why she was feeling so… what was the word? Confused? No… there was something better to describe it. Complicated? No, that wasn't right either… Conflicted! Yes, that was it! She was conflicted! There was a raging storm of emotions brewing inside her, setting all her internal organs aflame with feelings she didn't know she could ever grasp!

And now she was sounding an awful lot like Tamaki.

His name… why did it spring up in her mind at such random moments of time? She didn't care for him all that much. He was nothing if not annoying. He was like another one of her father, except he embraced the fact that he was a male and didn't go around dressing like a woman and working at bars.

Well, he did dress up like a woman sometimes, but that was beside the point.

Tamaki was just the annoying Host King she had to pay off a debt to. He involved her in far too many ploys to count, ones that drove her up the wall and one inch closer to the mental asylum. He made her play old elementary school games; made her eat commoner's ramen more than normal; made her get instant coffee from the supermarket whenever the Club ran out. He would save her from the evil men that didn't turn out to be quite as evil as originally believed. He was always there, ready to protect her, even if he failed at it miserably and could only make up for it by stringing together a colorful sentence of flowery language.

Haruhi Fujioka did not like this feeling of being conflicted. Of feeling confused. Unable to decide between what she wanted, what she hated, what she couldn't stand. Tamaki defined everything she was trying to get away from. And yet…

"Can you tell me what's wrong?" Ranka's voice penetrated her musings like an arrow.

"It's nothing, really." Haruhi released a great breath of air and closed her eyes, pulling herself upright against the frame of her father. "Just school stuff."

"Oh, tell Daddy all about it!" She could feel his excitement radiating off him like heat, and she once again thought on how he acted so much like the King of the Host Club, and it nearly terrified her, making her worry that maybe those two were somehow related.

And for some reason, the thought of her father and Tamaki-senpai somehow being related terrified her for more than one reason. It would mean that she had more of a freakier family than she already did. It would mean that she was rich if by a fraction and that she wasn't just a commoner. It would mean that thinking about Tamaki in any other way than her senpai would be…

Inappropriate beyond meaning.

And only Hikaru and Kaoru could pull such a thing off.

"Haruhi?"

Her father's voice snapped her out of her reverie, making her look upon her father's brown eyes, ones that resembled hers and looked nothing like Tamaki's. Come to think of it, the idea that Tamaki's family was somehow related to Ranka was preposterous, Haruhi reasoned. Her father wasn't blonde or as fair skinned for one thing. Or rich for another.

"Are you failing any classes?" he asked worriedly, reaching over to have her lean against him again. It was the closest contact he had had with her for such a long time, he almost forgot what it was like to have a daughter needing comfort.

She shook her head.

"Are you stressing over an exam?"

She laughed. "Me?"

He nodded, forgetting only for a moment that he was speaking to his daughter, to Haruhi Fujioka, the smartest girl, so smart that she had completed an entire application process to a private school on her own, had taken the exam and passed, and was now going to a school that wouldn't allow a commoner inside its halls unless they were a janitor or the Special Student.

"Is it…" Ranka hesitated for a moment. "Boys?"

Haruhi sighed just as her father tensed up visibly.

"So it is?"

The brown haired, big eyed girl sighed once more. "I don't know."

"It's those Host boys, isn't it? What have they done to my baby? It was that Tamaki, wasn't it?" Ranka grew visibly stronger, muscles pushing at the tight cloth of his shirt.

"Daddy, if anything… he's only helped."

"What?" Her father deflated rapidly, sitting beside his daughter once more.

She nodded. "I don't know what it is but lately… well. Forget it, it's ridiculous."

"Haruhi—"

"Don't worry about me," she said to her father, smiling that rare smile of hers, the one that turned her delicate features into a beautiful painting, the kind that was found inside a private collector's home because he was too jealous, too protective to let anyone else see it in a museum.

That was where Tamaki and Haruhi differed. While he was the painting, so exquisite, so detailed, so positively alluring that it could only be displayed in a museum, Haruhi was the painting that was hidden away behind folds of fabric, kept away from the prying eye. And when she was displayed before her owner and his friends, she was admired twenty times more, adored fifty times more, treasured a thousand times more than Tamaki. She was the rare and valuable piece of artwork one could never find, so sought after that once gained, you could never quite let it go.

She was the painting that did not know its own true value.

And maybe that was why she, although she did not realize it, was so attracted to this Tamaki Suoh of the Host Club. Because, although he was far too annoying, too flashy, to indiscreet, too cocky, too obnoxious, too much like her father, too much of everything she didn't care for, he knew her value, and treasured her, and every time he took a glimpse of her, he could see her become greater, become this wonderful goddess she could never picture herself becoming.

Her father could see all this just by the way her eyes looked away towards the distance out of the window. He closed his eyes, letting his own anger float away from him as his fingers twitched.

"Haruhi, I have to make a phone call."

She nodded.

Standing up with regal elegance, he made his way to the door, hand resting on the doorknob. Haruhi had seated herself on the edge of her bed, bare feet playing with the carpeting.

"Dad?"

He turned, eyes settling on his daughter's small figure, and he could see her when she was just a little girl, sitting the exact same way, same expression on her face. He knew what was coming, and he couldn't help but smile.

"Yes, baby girl?"

"I love you."

"I know, darling." And so he walked out.

On the other side of the door, Haruhi sighed, and her father could hear this from his place behind the door, ear pressed against the wood. And he smiled against it, fingers pressing against the carved letters of her name. Although he would usually scream out his love for her atop any mountain, or bar counter, he knew that wasn't what she wanted. She wanted a moment to allow herself to say it without any distraction, any interruption. And so he gave it to her.

Still against the door, Ranka Fujioka, or also know as Ryoji, whispered, "I love you, too."

* * *

With the cord twirled around his finger, his back pressed against the kitchen cabinet, Ranka pressed the receiver of the phone against his ear and mouth tightly, keeping his voice low. 

"Kyouya! What is going on in that Host Club of yours? Haruhi is deeply troubled!"

The Shadow King, in the comforts of his expensive home, sighed into the phone, a hand rising to push his glasses back to their rightful place on his nose. "Ranka, what has she told you?"

"Nothing. I just know it involves that awful Tamaki boy!"

Kyouya Ootori rolled his eyes. Tamaki. Why didn't he think of it before? "Well, what about him?"

"Is there anything going on between those two that I should know about? So I could get my shotgun ready and shoot him down? Multiple times?"

Kyouya smirked against the phone, mentally exchanging a high-five with Haruhi's father. "Well, the only situation I can think of that could be troubling our female host is the upcoming play we are having."

Ranka's dramatic voice suddenly became extremely cool and irritated. "Play?"

"Yes," Kyouya said, his voice as calm as ever. "A play."

"And what does this play involve?"

"A marriage."

"A marriage."

"That is correct."

"A marriage between whom?"

"A certain upstanding gentleman who, coincidently, is named exactly as the actor playing him, Tamaki Suoh and a beautiful, intelligent, confident, and determined young lady who, just like the gentleman mentioned before, is named exactly as the actress playing her, Haruhi Fujioka."

"You gave my daughter more compliments. How thoughtful of you," Ranka said in his girly voice, sidetracked for a moment.

"Well, I can't exactly boast about Tamaki. He doesn't have many endearing qualities, you know."

Ranka shook her head, dropping his voice to a whisper. "Never mind that. This play…"

"Is for raising money. It is also being used as a means to bring Haruhi's current debt lower."

"But why Tamaki? Why couldn't it be one of those enchanting twins, or that silent kendo champion, or even you, Kyouya-senpai?"

Kyouya did not answer for a long moment, and a pregnant pause filled the silence between the two men. "It was Tamaki's idea."

"It's a foolish idea."

"I agree, but Tamaki will not be deterred from his idea. However, I do believe he told Haruhi this afternoon that if she did not want to be part of it, she could leave."

"So she left and he's making her feel guilty?"

Kyouya checked his ever-present notebook and shook his head. "Actually, from what my notes say, she declined the offer and opted to stay involved with the play."

"Oh, dear," was all Ranka chose to say, and the phone was beginning to slip from his fingers and fall away to the floor.

Kyouya stared at the phone in hand. "Ranka? Ranka? Are you still there?"

Ranka had indeed let the phone go and had hurried to a standing position. He tiptoed his way to Haruhi's room and opened the door, looking in from the crack and seeing her sleeping features finally well rested.

"My dear little girl is in love," he whispered into the night, staring at the sleeping figure with moist eyes. He closed the door and leaned his forehead against the doorframe.

"I'm going to kill him!"

* * *

_AN: Look, another chapter, posted up so early! Only in two days! Aren't you all extremely proud of me? I think you all should be! So, to commemerate this moment in which I, the great Andrea, have posted up a new chapter, you should all click on that little "Submit Review" button and well... submit reviews to your heart's content! Yes, that's right! Review, review, review!_

_That's all for now, my kiddies. Stay tuned for the next chapter..._


	5. In Which the Other Twins Torture Haruhi

Chapter Five  
_In Which the Other Twins Torture Haruhi_

Months ago, Haruhi would have found herself wandering the halls of Ouran High School with little to do, books gathered in her arms while dragging her beat up bag around. She would be trying to find a place to study, where she could get back to the work that had ended so abruptly once the bell rang, signaling the end of class. She would find no empty or quiet place to study and would end up sitting close to the large windows of any hallway, books sprawled around her. All this after school, too late to stay in a class, too early to be expected home. It was an in-between time she disliked. She was never a person who liked to stay in-between. She needed everything at a defined point, and being unable to figure out where she belonged, where she was expected, was something that bothered her, even if she never did show this in front of others.

Now, though, she found herself in the Third Music Room, surrounded by six handsome men and many more beautiful women. She was basked in a strange sort of light each and every time the doors opened to allow the customers in. There were people who, besides her father, wanted her to be happy. While the customers wanted her to be happy with them (and little did they know that she was just posing as a 'he'), the Host Club members actually wanted her to be happy, to experience things she would never be able to experience otherwise. They wanted to introduce her to the grand life of riches, slowly (not really) throw her into the world of the high-class, a world she didn't belong to. After school, she would not be studying; she'd be entertaining high school girls with elementary school crushes while trying to pay off a debt. And she couldn't have it any other way.

However, on that special day, there were no customers. It was just her and the Hitachiin twins, behind closed doors in the Music Room, strange grins on their identical faces. Haruhi was pressed against the Music Room door, fingers still wrapped around the door handle, and they began to tremble as the twins pressed closer to her, taking careful steps. Their shadows towered over her, like two giant monsters, ready to gnaw off her toes.

"Haruhi," Hikaru said while rubbing his hands together in that evil sort of way only someone with great potential at becoming a world dominator could. "We have a surprise for you."

"A s-surprise?" Haruhi stuttered, which was quite unlike her.

"Oh yes, a surprise! But you're going to have to stand still." Kaoru's voice was louder than normal, and it nearly frightened Haruhi out of her "borrowed" socks.

"You girls can come out now," Hikaru whispered menacingly, and behind the shadow of the twins, there came the silhouettes of…

The Other Twins.

The female maids of the Hitachiin who only seemed happy when inflicting clothing torture on Haruhi. They advanced on her like women bent to kill, and Haruhi could only hang her head in defeat and wait for the impending doom. She knew it would be useless to fight them and she was probably guessing that the reason the other Host members had disappeared was because they had tried to fight them as well.

"Don't worry," one of the maids said.

"We'll take good care of you."

Haruhi whimpered, "Oh, Mother in Heaven."

* * *

"How's it going in there?" 

The silky tone of the Lord wafted through the room like smoke, filling it with his presence. The other Host Members (minus Kyouya, who claimed watching Haruhi parade around wearing different wedding dresses was not as interesting as the others made it to be) turned to watch their Host Club King waltz through the room like a man in love.

Which was funny, seeing as it could be very possible.

Hikaru, who was standing beside the changing room door holding the doorknob steady in his hand, gave him a good job sign with the thumb of his free hand. "I'm sure the maids have gotten her into a dress by now."

Honey, who was sitting cross-legged on the ground, raised his fork as his eyebrows rose as well. "What? It's been almost half an hour."

"Yes, well, we're also talking about the rejected heroine," Kaoru reminded the oldest member of the Host Club gently with a kind smile. The younger Hitachiin twin made his way to his brother, leaning into his body slightly, mouth beside ear. "We should ask if they're done. It's been too long. What if she's killed them?"

The thought of a tall, shadowy Haruhi holding a bloody spork (the minds of the twins could never function correctly, much like the mind of their King) as she grinned down at tiny little chibi Host members, two bloody bodies beside her, the black and white of the maid uniform stained red. It nearly made both brothers shriek and run away with fright, but much to their dismay, Hikaru's hand was still locked onto its target: the doorknob.

"Well? Hikaru? Ask!" The usually articulate king was so desperate he couldn't even begin to string together beautiful sentences that dripped with obnoxiousness.

"F-fine." Hikaru raised his free hand to knock on the wooden door but his hand could not meet it. It fluttered inches above the surface, shivering and shaking uncontrollably the moment it got any nearer. Taking a deep breath, he raised his hand and brought it crashing down.

Only… it didn't meet any wood.

Instead, it met thin air, and since he had used much force to bring it down, he was brought down to the floor along with his wonderful hand.

Landing at the feet of a goddess clad in white garments that seemed to possess an otherworldly presence of beauty.

"S-s-s-s-s—" The Host king seemed at a lost for words.

Honey, in the arms of his cousin, seemed to be exuding the usual pink flowers of cuteness. "Haru-chan, you look so adorable!"

The brown haired "boy" that had been kidnapped by the two identical looking maids had been turned into a beautiful, chocolate eyed being of perfection. She stood what seemed at least an inch taller than before, clad in a beautiful white gown that hugged her "shapeless" figure and made her appear curvier than any of the Host members had hoped her to be. Of course, she lacked the usual shape in front, but she seemed to make up for it by the way her hips seemed to create the illusion of the lower part of an hourglass.

Lord, she was half-perfect!

This seemed to make the Host members quite happy, as most burst into tears.

Most being the Hitachiin twins and the son of the superintendent.

The dress was the finest piece of clothing the young girl had ever had the hope of wearing. When she had been forced into it, the material seemed to glide across her skin, silky to the touch, velvety and soft, making her skin tingle. It moved when she moved, glided when she glided, rippled when she walked. It was like one of those dresses she would often see her father looking through in a magazine when he was pointing out some star at the award ceremony. But this-this was better. She was wearing it. She made it look amazing. The dress could never achieve looking as wonderful on anyone as it did on her.

She was in love. With a dress.

She was sure her father would accept that.

"Haruhi! Oh, Daughter! You look so cute! It's as if we've been blessed with the vision of seeing the goddess of love, descending from the heavens to teach us mere mortals of passionate love and beauty!" The blonde boy was spouting his usual poetic words at his "daughter" with great exuberance, his violet eyes sparkling with utter delight. He was standing before her, hands edging ever closer to her own.

She sighed, the illusion the dress created shattered by his stupid words. "Senpai, I'm not a goddess. I never lived in the heavens. I know nothing about love or beauty. Frankly, if I hadn't heard your voice, I could have easily confused you for a female."

The Corner of Woe beckoned Tamaki Suoh, and in a moment, the flamboyant Host member was rocking in the corner, a dark cloud hanging above his head. Haruhi stared at the blonde for a moment before shrugging and turning back to the others, expecting a few words of discouragement when it came to the dress. She hardly expected something she liked to be liked by the rest.

"Haruhi, you look very pretty," Kaoru said expectantly, giving her a once over in approval. He looked at his brother for confirmation.

Hikaru nodded as well. "Now you I would kiss."

She grunted. "Can I take it off now? It's itching." Of course, she was lying, but she didn't want to admit to the others that she actually loved the dress, how it looked on her and how it felt on her. If she even did such a thing, she'd be blackmailed for the rest of her life. And they would do it, too. She knew it. They had so much extra time that they'd probably devote their lives to blackmailing her.

In a second, Tamaki was swooping down on Haruhi, an arm wrapped around her shoulders, bringing her crashing into his chest as he held her protectively. With her head against his chest, the silk of his shirt somehow comfortable underneath her, she could hear his heart pounding, almost as if it were ready to pop out of his body and perform a little show and dance for all of them. Even as she struggled to get out of his embrace of horror, she almost wished to stay there and help calm the frantic beating against his chest.

"I will not allow you hooligans to touch my precious daughter, let alone kiss her with your vile, poisonous lips!"

Hikaru rolled his eyes and stuck his head inside the changing room where the two maids were still in, hidden by darkness. "My Lord, you're an idiot. But I'll ignore it for now." He raised a hand and knocked on the wooden frame of the door, causing everyone's attention to drift towards him. "You two, are you done dressing her?"

"It is the dress that best fit her," the two maids said simultaneously, just as the Hitachiin brothers always did, except their tone sounded bored and as if they wanted to gouge their eyes out with their nails. But such technicalities are hardly worth the mention. Most times.

"Haru-chan, Haru-chan, you look amazing!" Honey's sweet, little voice tickled Haruhi's ears and she stared down at him, watching him as he tapped his cousin on the hand for an affirmative nod or sound of approval, which Mori-senpai gave quickly with a bow of his head.

"The play is going to be so authentic and realistic," Kyouya said from his place at the room's entrance, arms crossed, shoulder leaning against the frame. "If all the other costumes look this good, then we won't even have any need to say any lines. In fact, it could be turned into a fashion show. But it would bring down the positive feedback we'll receive from the girls, and that may end up crippling us in the long run."

"Can I take off the stupid dress _now_?" Haruhi interjected, sounding rather cross. Her hair was falling into her eyes, making the brown orbs almost impossible to read.

"Lord Tamaki," the younger twin called out, waving a frantic hand at the new Corner of Woe, "may the lovely Lady Heroine take off the dress?"

Tamaki shrugged.

"Very well!" Hikaru said, smirking mischievously. "Take it off."

Suddenly, the older twin was punched into the floor as the second tallest member of the Club raised his hand in a diplomatic wave. "No man shall watch my daughter change out of her dress! Unless they want to die a terribly cruel and tragic death that will resound through the ages as a symbol of love, dedication and—"

Haruhi rolled her eyes and went back into the changing room, slamming the door shut behind her. Her muffled voice could be heard by the Host Club as she mumbled, "You rich bastards," before a tiny crash could be heard, which signaled to them all that she was probably trying to shred the dress rather than just simply remove it from her body.

"Doesn't really matter," Hikaru said from his place on the floor.

"We requested Mother to have replacements available immediately, anyhow."

"Besides, that dress still had some pins in it."

And as if to prove that fact, a tiny yelp was heard from the reluctant heroine's lips, as well as a few choice words that send her "father" cringing back to his corner.

* * *

_AN: Yes, I know. This chapter is really, really late. But quite a few hectic things have been happening in my life lately, what with AP English summer homework, trying to transfer to a new school, breaking up with my asshole of an ex boyfriend and then trying to break up with my current one, I can really say that I've been busy. Busy out of my mind. Busy enough to make me want to ram my head into a toilet while convulsing._

_Also, I've turned into a "Narutard" as my friend, Andy2, has so cleverly dubbed me. Even though the phrase has been used for more than a few years, I still like to believe I'm special like that. Because I am. Even though you guys don't know it._

_But enough on my excuses._

_I know (trust me, I know) that the characters seem a little OOC here. Well, more than that. But it just had to be done. I mean, come on, you all gotta admit that even the most determined and strongest woman in the world would melt into a puddle if she were wearing the dress of her dreams. It's like… girls and shoes. Girls and chocolate._

_Or Orlando Bloom._

_Anyway…_

_Because you all love me, I believe you should all scroll your little way down the page and click the GO button with the "Submit Review" choice. Yes, I truly believe you should do that. As a "ZOMG-YOU'RE-BACK-YEAH-LETS-PARTY-WE-LOVE-YOU-BEAR-MY-CHILDREN-EAT-MY-SCONES!" present._

_That would be nice._


	6. In Which the Fathers and Mother Talk

Chapter Six  
_In Which the Fathers (and Mother) Have a Talk_

At first, her presence had been unnerving. She had suddenly appeared out of no where, gracing their Third Music Room with her calm, foreign presence. She was this… creature of another world, completely different to his (their) world. The things they were so accustomed to were things she could never dream of having. The things she knew were things they considered only commoners would be unlucky enough to know. Try as he might, he couldn't get to her. The Twins could, Honey could, even Kyouya and Mori, but him? Never. He was just the bumbling fool.

Who looked incredibly dashing, but that wasn't exactly the point.

She was fleeting in every moment. The moment he could get close to her, the moment he believed her to be in need of him, he somehow, someway, managed to ruin it. She'd get angry at him and send him flying to the Corner of Dejection (other names included Corner of Woe, Corner of Desperation, Corner of Rejection, Fungus Room) in a matter of moments. Her eyes of flashing anger would have him cowering. As much as he tried, he could never appeal to her, even though he did look horrifyingly handsome and good looking while achieving the depressed look as well.

He didn't understand the feelings welling up inside him. Although he was incredibly open, there were just some things better left behind closed and locked doors, with added guards that wore ninja costumes and carried samurai swords, who also kept a stash of commoner ramen in their packs of kunai and shuriken. Feelings, he reasoned, were wonderful things. They allowed you to remember that you were, in the end, a simple human.

Even if you were terribly handsome.

The King of the Host Club, the Lord of the Ladies, the Superintendent's Son, future heir, Tamaki Suoh, was incredibly, horribly, undeniably confused.

All because of _her._

He was sitting in Kyouya's office with eyes cast downwards, their brightness dulled due to his lack of enthusiasm. His legs were trembling, knees hitting the wooden desk, making a thudding noise at every contact, making Kyouya Ootori wince every time the air resonated with the sound. His hands were intertwined, thumbs fiddling with each other. He could hear his Inner Tamaki (a man who rarely made his appearance inside the man's mind) arguing and trying to tell Real Tamaki that fiddling with his thumbs was something no handsome man could do! Only ugly, commoner boys could.

Like the Twins.

"Tamaki, stop that."

At the sound of his best friend's voice filling the air around him, his legs stopped moving and he caught his breath, trying not to make a sound.

The bespectacled man sighed and carefully placed the file he was viewing down on the surface, smoothing it out carefully to have it lay completely flat upon the desk. He ran a hand through his hair as the other hand rummaged through drawers only to take out a notebook that faintly resembled the one he carried around in school.

Except this one was much thicker.

"What is that?" Tamaki asked, his voice soft, quite unlike the one he usually used.

Kyouya stared upon the troubled man with little sympathy. "A notebook."

"What's inside?"

"Letters and words and sentences and all these trifling things called paragraphs."

"…Why?"

Kyouya's shoulders tensed for a moment, the calmness of his face shattered for a second before he regained his composure. He dropped the notebook on the table and flipped it open. Inside, pictures and words filled the pages, the handwriting neat, the pasting job done perfectly. He carefully turned the notebook around so that the man sitting on the other side could read it better. He pushed it forward, sliding it across the surface until it reached the blonde.

"It's mainly about you."

Tamaki grinned as his fingers flipped the pages. "Oh, so you're secretly another King fan?"

Kyouya rolled his eyes. "No. I'm your best friend."

Tamaki lost his grin and regained his troubled composure, one he rarely let others see. He was sure the only one who ever saw him in such a state was the third son of the Ootori family.

"Tamaki, you know I make observations. I write these observations of mine down so I will always have them and can reference them later. Information is something that I believe is vital to living in the competitive business world of today." The dark haired man closed his eyes for a moment. "I even write down irrelevant information sometimes, just because you never know if it may, indeed, one day turn into relevant information. I'd rather be over prepared then not."

The blonde nodded fervently, eyes regaining their usual luster. "That's a very good business tactic."

"Yes, I know." There was a pause, one filled with many unasked questions. "I write down everything I know about you, Tamaki."

"Is that so? Well, you wouldn't happen to know what I wore January 13th, would you? Last year? I'm fairly sure I loved that outfit but I can't seem to remember the exact shirt."

Kyouya's eyes twitched. "Sometimes, I do wonder about you…"

Tamaki's brows furrowed to form a perfect V. "What? I really did like that outfit, it was so becoming of me. Don't you have an outfit you positively adore and can't live without—"

"In that case, if it is an outfit I positively adore, I take careful note of remembering what shirt I wore."

The blonde frowned. "You never understand me…"

"Then why is that you are here today? Sitting with me, in my office, in my chair?"

"I need to talk to you."

"About?"

"The play."

"What about it?"

There was a frantic sigh of desperation. "I can't go through with it!"

"If you don't," Kyouya said seriously, eyes hidden behind glasses, making them unseen, "we'll surely lose profits."

"But Haruhi! She's far too young to get married! She's only sixteen!"

"Tamaki."

"Yes, Kyouya?"

"Its. A. Play."

Tamaki waved his hand around. "Obviously, didn't I say it was?"

The dark haired man seemed to be having a very difficult time suppressing the sudden urge of beating the blonde's head into the floor. "Why are you so worried about Haruhi, hm?"

"She's my daughter, of course! I take care of her like a good daddy would!" Tamaki seemed utterly appalled that Kyouya had even gone so far as to ask why on earth he would care about Haruhi. Of course, Kyouya hadn't said such a thing and had only asked why he was worried, but it was Tamaki's duty to distort things in his mind.

"A father marrying his daughter? What a terrible—"

"Don't say it!"

"T—"

"I'm warning you!"

"Taboo."

Tamaki gasped, a hand flying to his heart, clutching the crisp, clean navy blue button down he wore under his blazer. His eyes twitched and rolled to the back of his head as he leaned back into his chair, almost tipping it backwards.

"I can't believe you uttered the word, Mother!"

"Tamaki, I have already asked Haruhi's father to join us today. He should be here at any moment. Please make yourself presentable as I am in no desire to further explain your erratic behavior."

"Kyouya, just one thing?"

Kyouya's glasses flashed as he cocked his head to the side, dark eyes appearing behind the lens. "Why the notebook about me?"

The dark haired man smirked slightly, his lips curling upwards just a bit, almost as if he were smiling, but not quite. "Because, Tamaki, sometimes you seem to understand yourself the least. Just like Haruhi."

And at that moment, the doors to Kyouya Ootori's office burst open, a tall, pretty "woman" standing on the other side, anger clearly written across his face.

"Tamaki Suoh," the "woman" said in the manliest, angriest, most terrifying voice known to mankind, "you die today."

* * *

It had taken the Kyouya quite a while to settle the okama down and prevent and outbreak of violence upon company grounds. Also, he couldn't allow Ranka to murder his best friend, seeing as the blonde could prove to be further useful in the future. 

For at least _something_.

The two "Fathers" sat on opposite ends of the room. The younger one was trembling in his seat as his hands grasped the armrest and paled twelve shades lighter. The older one, the real father of the person in question (who wasn't really in question), was breathing heavily, hair askew, tight business skirt rising along his thighs. He hastily drew it down as he glared at the blonde, probably planning out seventy-six different ways to kill him. All in a span of three minutes.

"Ranka-san," Kyouya began slowly, carefully taking a seat behind his desk as if just waiting for the outbreak of the Plague to happen. "I believe you called me today, distressed, and were in need to meet with me."

The brown-reddish haired okama nodded but glared at the blonde sitting opposite her. "I just don't understand why he has to be here," he hissed, pointing a perfectly manicured finger at the Lord.

"Ranka-san—"

"Mister Fujioka to you!"

The blonde seemed ready to burst into a trembling mess of tears.

Kyouya sighed again, a hand moving to pinch the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "Ranka, Tamaki was here before you arrived due to his own personal problems which he needed me to deal with."

Ranka turned back into the adoring okama and fluttered his eyelashes as he pawed the air. "Oh Kyouya, I don't see how he can possibly be the Host Club president when you are clearly the one who runs everything!"

The bespectacled young man let a ghost of a smirk come on to his face as his best friend _did_ burst into tears. "That's because being president would bring me no merit." Then, he shook his head and decided to change the subject back to Ranka's visit.

"So, what was it that was troubling you, Ranka-san?"

Haruhi's father shook his head and placed a hand on his forehead in a dramatic gesture. "Oh, Haruhi! My poor, poor Haruhi!" He fluttered his hand in an attempt to seem troubled and vulnerable. He only managed to send Tamaki into another fit of tears when the blonde caught sight of rippling muscles.

"What about her?"

"She can't go on with the play!"

Suddenly, Tamaki's tears had disappeared as he heard the declaration. He sat up straight in his chair, crossed his legs and stared at the man, the real father, across from him.

"Why not?" he asked seriously, his tone smooth and calm. Such a drastic change that even his best friend, who would know when such a thing happened, seemed a little bit surprised.

But only a little.

Ranka frowned. "You remember what an awful actress she is from that incident."

All three shivered as thoughts of the Lobelia Girl's play came rushing back through their mind.

"She won't be that bad," Kyouya assured Ranka. "We've already secretly placed her into drama classes at school. She thinks it's for extra credit classes."

Tamaki raised an eyebrow. "We did all that?"

His best friend didn't meet his eyes. "Well, not really. I did all that."

"She still can't perform," Ranka said sternly, his voice edged with tiny little knives that would hopefully cut across the man who stole his little girl's heart and kill him. But sometimes, even such possible things didn't happen.

"And why is that?"

"We'll take perfectly good care of Haruhi, Ranka-san! She's my daughter, after all!" Tamaki assured Haruhi's father, kneeling on his knees and clasping his hands in a begging manner.

Ranka suddenly stiffened, his dramatic face slipping off in a rapid speed. At the mention of Tamaki being Haruhi's "daddy," he stood up, straightened his business attire and headed towards the door. His hands wrapped around the doorknob but didn't pull the door open. He paused, staring at the wooden slab. "I have no desire of seeing my daughter's heart broken."

With that, he was gone.

Leaving one very confused Lord and one very preoccupied Shadow King in his wake.

* * *

_AN: Yay! I'm back! Did you all miss me? I'm sure you all did. I didn't like this chapter all that much, but it had to be done! Yes, yes it did. And although many of you may not like it, I'd still appreciate all the lovely reviews I receive from you all. You guys make my day oh-so-much better!_

_Now, to answer a concern from a review..._

_The dress Haruhi wore last chapter was not described in its entirety for a reason. It was mentioned that there were various other dresses that looked exactly the same in case Haruhi did something to ruin it, and because the twins had said it still had pins in it, one can assume its not really the "finished" piece. Besides, Haruhi was just trying it on, not looking anything glamarous with her hair or makeup or anything. So when the "WEDDING" comes along, I want to go all out and describe her then, where she looks the most amazing._

_I haven't yet finished my homework (I have four days left... four days left... four days left...) and I start in... four days (lol!) so you guys may not see me for a while. BUT FRET NOT! FOR I SHALL WRITE UNTIL MY LITTLE FINGERS COME OFF AND DANCE UPON THE KEYBOARD WRITING NONSENSE LIKE ASKJFMSD! _

_So, to motivate me and to make me happy and to assure me you all wont appear outside my home with torches and pitchforks, leave me a review. Thanks. I love you guys. If I could, I'd wrap you all in white silk and marry you!_

_But I'm saving that for Tamaki._

_P.S. If any of you are Narutards (raging mob heard in background) and like the pairing Shikamaru and Temari, you guys should check out my new oneshot of them. wink And noooo, this isn't self-promoting!_


	7. In Which the King and Haruhi Encounter

**AN: Yeah, I know. I should go drown in my toilet for being such a horrible updater-thingy. Before you all kill me, I hope you can somehow forgive me and take this pathetic chapter as an apology. And if you can't... well, when you kill me, please bury me with my computer. I heart it muchly, I do.**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Ouran High School Host Club. Oh, the things I would do if I did...

* * *

Chapter Seven  
_In Which the King and Haruhi Encounter Their Feelings_

When Honey asked Tamaki for a private audience (and Tamaki was slightly petrified at the idea that Honey wanted to speak to him in private, and had called that an audience), all the King could do was agree furiously, a nod of his head, blonde locks coming into his eyes and partly hindering his view of the tiny little monster holding a tiny little monstrous looking stuffed bunny toy. Even Haruhi, who had been standing by preparing instant coffee for the Host Club and its customers, seemed surprised, by the way her eyebrows arched upwards and her eyes widened, her hand still poised above a cup that had overflowed with the black liquid.

Kyouya's calm voice cut through, and even though it sounded shocked as well, still managed to awake everyone from their reverie. "I'll have to add in the costs of laundry to your debt, Haruhi."

She scowled and muttered something under her breath about getting the stain out later without having to resort to sending it off to France or Ireland for the stain to be removed. Then she was gone in an irritated breeze, a tray of hot coffee cups in hand.

"Would you mind leaving the private audience for later, Honey-senpai?" Kyouya asked the seventeen year old senior while he looked down upon him through his glasses. "Depriving the customers from their favorite designation could prove fatal."

Honey nodded, gripping the bunny tighter into his chest. "Sure thing, Kyo-chan!" He smiled brightly before bounding off across the room, landing safely into the laps of several girls sitting on bright, royal couches, all waiting for his arrival. Not a moment later did Mori arrive to carefully detach the little bundle of joy from the girls and place him gently into a high chair.

"Tamaki-senpai?"

Tamaki whirled around, directly facing Haruhi and her large, intelligent eyes. She was standing carefully a mere few inches away from him, hands behind her back, eyebrows furrowed in worry or desperation, though he wasn't sure which. Her crisp uniform seemed to have become tighter across her chest in the few months she had been in the club. He'd have to get that fixed, Tamaki silently reminded himself.

"Yes, darling daughter?"

Her eyes carefully slid towards where Honey and Mori (but more like Honey) were chatting up the customers. They were giggling madly at Honey's cuteness, and some were staring with undying adoration at Mori's ever permanent frown. After a moment of staring at them, she whispered, "I do wonder what its going to be like once those two are gone." She looked up at him, her mouth set in a tiny frown. "Do you think that's what Honey-senpai is going to talk to you about?"

And suddenly, Tamaki had paled ten shades lighter and he was staring pointedly over Haruhi's shoulders at the two seniors.

"Oh, dear."

Haruhi's eyebrows, if possible, arched positively higher on her forehead before almost immediately forming a perfect V as they furrowed together. For Tamaki to be forming such short sentences probably meant he was at a complete loss as to what to say, or was still terribly confused as to what was happening around him.

"Are you alright, Tamaki-senpai?"

"Y-yes," he answered quickly, eyes darting towards the two seniors that were soon to graduate the famous Ouran High School in only a few months.

Haruhi leaned closer to him, hands clasped firmly behind her back as she stared at him quizzically. She didn't know what this pounding of her heart meant, or why the sudden thought that graduation was coming near terrified her more than it thrilled her, seeing as she was now only two years away from her own graduation. She couldn't bear to think what it would have been like without the Host Club if Tamaki had gone ahead with his plans of marriage to that Éclair girl, if he had abandoned Ouran, his friends, _her_ for his mother in France.

And although she knew she was being selfish (what wouldn't she have given up to see her mother just once more?), she couldn't help but sigh in relief when she realized that Tamaki Suoh was still there in Japan, in the Third Music Room as the number one host, there with her and the rest of the other members.

She silently begged Tamaki's mother for forgiveness, for if Haruhi hadn't been the one to chase after Tamaki, he'd probably have been in France by then, settling into his new life as a married man.

"Even if graduation is what Honey-senpai wants to talk about," Haruhi heard herself say, "it won't matter much, right? We—I mean, you are all such good friends that even once the school year ends, you'll still be together."

Tamaki's eyes softened considerably as her words reached him. He nodded, raising a hand to run it through his hair. "Ah, yes. I suppose you're right. I don't know what I'm worrying about! After all, in only a year, _I'll_ be graduating!" He gave her a charming smile, one that lit up the entire room (and made Haruhi feel strangely lightheaded), before walking away to join his customer, who burst into a fit of giggles the moment he came near.

He left Haruhi alone, holding a tray of empty cups. He left Haruhi confused and troubled at the sudden feeling gathering in her gut telling her that graduation was something she didn't ever want to see.

"Haruhi, some customers haven't yet received their coffee," Kyouya interrupted, startling the brown haired girl enough to cause her to give a little jump before scurrying away to get new cups of coffee.

Once she was safely away from the prying eyes of the Host Club and its customers, Haruhi leaned against the door that connected the Third Music Room and the smaller room full of snacks for Honey (and the customers, she reasoned) and coffee.

Graduation… graduation…

Suddenly, Haruhi hated it.

Certainly, she wanted to get out of the dastardly school full of rich snobs but the thought that she'd have to abandon the Host Club on the way to the Real World made her want to be sick, and she hadn't even eaten any breakfast that day. How could she leave them, after spending almost an entire school year with the six crazy men that were sometimes (most times) far too handsome for their own good? She couldn't imagine venturing on through life without a pair of identical looking boys attacking and flirting with her at every moment; couldn't imagine a life without a small blond boy hanging to her sleeve and begging her to join him in eating cake; couldn't see her life without a sincere and silent man that somehow provided the quiet security she needed; couldn't think of what it would be like without a bespectacled man telling her every other day that she owed a few hundred more yen then she remembered.

Worst of all (and she nearly did throw up then), she couldn't imagine, couldn't fathom, _wouldn't_ think what her life would be like without the eccentric, optimistic, slightly egotistic King of the Host Club to make her life absolutely insane and chaotic.

Would she have ever realized what friendship meant and how much she treasured it without him?

She doubted it. To her, friends were just another added weight to her stressful life that would slow her down in the process of becoming a great and admirable lawyer like her mother.

That's what she thought friends were.

Before she met them. Met him.

Haruhi shook her head, trying to get rid of the thoughts. She didn't want to be thankful to those lunatics! They were all utterly insane! Off their rockers! Round the bend! Only a few months away from being interned at an asylum.

If it hadn't been for those rich bastards, she'd have never had to be kidnapped by the Lobelia girls' and forced to participate in a play that nearly made her consider suicide by choking on a banana peel. If it hadn't been for them, she wouldn't have to hide her gender from the school population. If it hadn't been for them, she wouldn't have fan girls trailing her ever step through the school hallways.

Yet she couldn't imagine having it any other way.

She banged her head against the door frame, cursing under her breath for her stupidity.

Getting attached had not been part of her plan.

Get in, do well, get out, and succeed.

How on earth had such a simple plan gone horribly wrong?

"Mother in Heaven," she mumbled under her breath, hands tightening into fists as she pounded her head with them, "this was not supposed to happen."

But what was _this_?

She couldn't even answer. Most times, she knew the answers to most things. And she couldn't even answer a short, four worded sentence.

She blamed the fluttering in her stomach, the pain in her chest, the lightheaded feeling that followed Tamaki's smile.

There was a knock on the door she leaned against. She jumped out of the way at once just as the door creaked open slowly, a sliver of light from the other room bathing the wooden floor in white.

"Haruhi? Kyouya told me you'd—"

"Eh? Tamaki-senpai?" Haruhi's breathing quickened painfully as she stumbled a few more steps back, hip bumping into the small table that held all the needed "tools" to prepare a good cup of commoner coffee.

Tamaki's head had popped through the crack of the open door, eyes searching for her. They settled on her after a minute or so and his lips broke into yet another dazzling smile. "Ah, there you are. The customers are getting anxious for your return."

She nodded. "I'll be there in just a moment. I still have to prepare some more coffee." She brushed a lock of hair away from her as the ends tickled her nose.

The blonde opened the door wider to step inside. She watched him from the corner of her eyes as he softly closed the door and strode towards her, arms outstretched. "I'll help you then!"

She quickly dodged him, taking the coffee pot that held the dark liquid inside. She shook her head forcefully. "No, that's fine. I can do it perfectly fine by myself."

He frowned at her, eyes widening in sadness as his features contorted into ones of rejection. "But I just want to help my darling daughter—"

"No."

He whimpered. "Haruhi, all I want is to make your life easier and—"

The corner of her lips pulled downwards as she turned to stare at him through narrowed eyes. "Then listen to me when I say I don't need your help," she interrupted briskly, her tone cold. She hadn't meant to make it sound so horribly, but he was trying her patience, and she was in no mood to deal with anything she didn't know how to deal with. And the emotions suddenly taking over her mind were ones she didn't recognize and therefore had no file stored away on how to make them disappear.

What she did know was that the emotions were caused by him, and if he disappeared, they'd probably go away too.

His eyes widened in shock before they went back to their normal size. His mouth was set into a thin line as he nodded mutely, bowing his head and leaving the room quickly. The small click of the door closing made Haruhi release a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

Suddenly, the empty room seemed so much colder and so much lonelier then she had remembered it to be.

* * *

"You wanted to speak to me, Honey-senpai?" Tamaki asked as he settled into a chair, long after the customers had left the Third Music Room, long after Haruhi had grumbled a goodbye and stalked out of the club quarters, long after the Twins chased after her, worried about her unusual disappearance during "snack time". The blonde settled himself comfortably against the foreign cushions that were carefully laid out on the chair, arms hanging over the armrests. 

The smaller blonde that was seated across from the King nodded, unable to answer due to the last bite of cake he had to chew over. Mori handed him a napkin when he finished and he took it gratefully, wiping it across his small mouth happily before settling back against the chair, wrapping short arms around his Usa-chan.

"Tama-chan, Mori and I were just wondering what would happen once we graduate the month after next. " Honey's large eyes were staring intently at Tamaki, unblinking.

"Well, I haven't really quite thought of that just yet…"

Honey nodded slowly, mouth opening into a little O that made him appear cuter than ever. "I was thinking… why don't we have a party? A huge, big, cake-filled party!"

Tamaki allowed himself to smile; sometimes, Honey's ideas only had cake involved. "We're running low on the budget what with the play, the costumes and props, invitations…"

"Oh…" Honey's eyes saddened and threatened to overflow with new tears just as he gripped his bunny tighter against his chest. "Right…"

Tamaki nearly cried as well at the sudden sight. He was ever so emotional… "W-wait! I'm sure we can have a huge, big, cake-filled party right after the play! We'll just have to start a few extra fundraisers… sell some more Twin Love Calendars before the school year ends… Is that alright with you, Honey?"

Honey nodded eagerly before his happy face dissolved into one of seriousness. "Tama-chan…"

"Yes, Honey-senpai?"

"Do you regret coming back?"

The sudden question and all the implications beneath it shocked Tamaki into silence, his head reeling at the weight of the question.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you regret coming back to Ouran, to the Host Club, to us and leaving the chance to see your mother?"

Tamaki's eyes stared pointedly at his lap as he refused to meet Honey's golden gaze. He seemed serious as well, his usually happy attitude floating slowly but surely away from him to wait on the other side of the Music Room door. "Maybe…" he faltered for a moment before regaining his confidence. "No. I miss my mother terribly, but I know she is doing well since my grandmother had promised me so. I would love to see her again but abandoning my friends… to abandon the people I have come to treasure most… No matter how much my mother missed _me_, she'd never accept or forgive my actions if I had gone to her the way I was planning to." He looked up to meet Honey and Mori's questioning eyes. "My mother would never forgive me for marrying someone I did not love. I don't think my father would, either."

"Why did you do it?"

It was the first time anyone had ever asked Tamaki. The other Host Club members had carefully stood clear away from asking for the reason why as to Tamaki's near-abandonment. They knew that it had to do with Tamaki seeing his mother in some level, but they didn't know the technicalities or if any underlying reason remained.

"My grandmother told me to."

"What?"

"She told me that if I wanted to see my mother again, I would have to marry Lady Éclair Tonnerre. I was given a chance to think about it but, at the moment, all I could think about was seeing my mother's face. Besides, when it came to thinking about the Host Club, all I saw were the problems that it had given to everyone. I thought it would be best if I simply left and let the Host Club fall apart; more problems could be avoided that way."

Tamaki's sincere response softened Honey's intense gaze. The small blonde sighed in relief before sliding out of his chair, crossing the distance between him and his Host King. He wrapped the taller man in a hug, smiling into his arm.

"I think you should tell Haruhi that," Honey said after he had let go. "She went to get you for a _reason_, Tamaki. You came back because _she_ was the one to get you. Had it been any of us, you would have remained by your decision and we would have let you go. Think about it, Tama-chan." Honey turned his head and nodded at Mori. "Let's go, Takashi! I'm craving some chocolate mousse, maybe even with some strawberries. You'll join me, won't you?"

Mori's answer was lost due to the sound of the door closing behind the pair as they left the Third Music Room. Tamaki stared after them, mouth hanging open.

"That look isn't appealing, Tamaki," Kyouya's strict voice said, cutting clear through the silence.

Tamaki nodded and closed his mouth immediately though his eyes still hadn't left the door.

"Honey-senpai is right, you know. Think about it, Tamaki." The snap of a notebook being shut filled the air, the sounds of footsteps retreating bouncing off the magnificent walls. There was the sound of a button being pressed and the room was filled with static ridden music from the radio. "Not everyone in the world is lucky enough to receive what you've been given."

Kyouya left Tamaki dumbfounded, stranded in a chair in an empty room just as the song on the radio wailed out a "_Maybe you're my love!_" into the frozen air.

* * *

**AN: Review, please. I'd appreciate it a lot.**

**This chapter may seem a little off but... er... blame the chicken and shrimp I've been consuming on a daily basis.**

**(By the way, if I end up never updating again, its probably because I died of high cholesterol or something. I mean... its totally unhealthy to be consuming the ridiculous amount of shrimp I've been eating on a regular basis. I'll soon end up suffocating in my own fat... so depressing).**


	8. Authors Note

I have, unfortunately, lost any and all interest in writing at the moment.

The possibility of me returning to infect the world with my ShikaTema oneshots and chapters of "Wedding" are very slim. Never mind the fact that there _were_ chapters for Wedding, and over ten ShikaTema oneshots completed. I'll even ignore the ShikaTema chaptered fic I was writing.

Life manages to screw with people, and it screwed with me.

A teacher of mine once said, "_Never love fully_."

I never truly believed I would have ever wanted to take advice from him as I do now.

I wish something could give me the strength to burry my heart a little deeper, but I can't do that. I can't stop the way I feel or the way life takes its course. I can only sit here and allow myself to flow down the river because as much as I love to swim, I'm not yet ready to challenge the current.

Besides, I want nothing more than to be taken down.

This isn't a satisfactory Authors Note, but it's the only thing I could do to explain. Trust me when I say I am not a firm believer in happy endings, but that doesn't erase the fact that as much as it's the happy moments that count, any ending hurts. And such an ending as a bad one really does amount to so much more, because the happy moments amount to nothing beside that one moment where you truly feel like shit. Where there is nothing in the world that can make you feel better because the one thing that could is gone.

I write about love because I believe in it. I write about it because I want to experience it.

I've stopped writing about it because it hurts too much now that I know what it really is.


	9. In Which the Dinner is a DisasSuccess

**DISCLAIMER**: I still do not own Ouran. However, I am hoping such a thing changes, as I've been saving up my lunch money diligently in hopes that the creator is willing to part with her creation for about fifteen dollars and thirty-two cents. Thirty-three cents if I find that penny I saw a while back…

* * *

Chapter Eight  
_In Which the Rehearsal Dinner is a Disas—Success_

Demand for the play was high. Haruhi could not turn a corner of Ouran High School without running into a mob of crazed fangirls, all holding up questionable, if not a tad too graphic, signs that depicted a nearly naked Tamaki holding a nearly naked Haruhi. And while Haruhi had always hated sports, she had never been more grateful that Ouran demanded participation in physical education as part of the curriculum, since running away had become one of her regular escapes, especially when they led away from the fangirls and towards a safer haven—like the boy's bathroom.

When she arrived to the Third Floor Music Room (and wasn't she just extremely lucky that the Host Club had decided to close for the day?), out of breath and near collapsing, she found the members all gathered and discussing something of important value that most definitely involved her in some way, even if it was indirectly.

"Oh Haruhi, my darling daughter! You have finally graced us with your presence! We have all missed you terribly so and would love it—"

"What were you talking about?" Haruhi interrupted Tamaki with a clear voice, her eyes narrowed and eyebrows furrowed. He always rambled on when nervous. He always performed dramatic gestures when extremely nervous. He always went after her using those tactics when he was in desperate and dire need of distraction because of his nerves.

The blonde man pouted and turned to look towards his best friend, who was currently scribbling furiously away into his notebook, glasses flashing dangerously as he flipped through the pages and simultaneously began to plug numbers and countless equations into the calculator by his side. Haruhi never paused to wonder how the man could do so many things at once, for she was sure that dwelling on the thought would only kill the limited supply of brain cells her brain provided for her, and most of them had already dropped dead with the presence of those men.

The Twins, who sat by the stoic Shadow King, gave her their identical charming smiles as they extended their hands to her. A hug is what many would say if they were observing, or a peace offering as those who were more intelligent would suggest. But Haruhi, who was cleverer and far more intelligent then most, knew it was their way to distract her from something that was going on behind the scenes, and most probably, behind her back. If she even so far as stepped close to them, she'd find herself trapped in their grasp and hauled away into another dark room. Or perhaps they'd be more inventive this time and throw her into a cave or haunted mansion, that way Tamaki's presence as savior would be practically guaranteed.

"What is going on?" she asked, carefully stepping to the side to avoid all the males. She disliked their stares or lack there of. It always led to trouble.

Honey, who had been engrossed in eating his cake, finally looked up to her and smiled, teeth whitened with frosting. "Kyo-chan is planning the rehearsal dinner!"

"The what?"

Mori grunted in approval, passing Honey a napkin and staring directly at his teeth. "Frosting."

The honey-eyed boy nodded and smiled, a hint of a pink tongue peeking out to lick his pearly whites clean.

"What does he mean by that?" Haruhi asked, gesturing towards Honey as she stared directly at the King.

"The rehearsal dinner is a very important part of a wedding," Kaoru informed her, leaning forward from his seat to look at her more directly, even if she was avoiding meeting his gaze.

His brother followed suit. "And since this play is nearly almost identical to a real wedding, it is only obvious that we'd have to put on the rehearsal dinner as well."

Kaoru nodded, turning back to his brother and flashing a smile. "All the girls have been requesting it. A perfect way to promote the release of the play and ensure that tickets will be sold out by the time it is performed."

"Not to mention that Kyouya thinks that the funds that the dinner would bring would launch the Host Club into economic independency for years to come."

"So really, it's a question as to why we haven't all thought of it sooner," Kaoru finished, a satisfied smile fitting neatly upon his lips.

Hikaru leaned against his brother. "Besides, the opportunity to see you in a dress only doubles the merits that would come out of this venture," he added.

Haruhi frowned and turned her stare towards Kyouya, who paused when he felt her glare upon him.

"Is that true?" she asked him coldly. "I've already agreed to the damn play. Why must—"

"She used damn!" Tamaki howled his voice so high it nearly cracked. "My darling daughter is using horrid, vulgar words!"

"Oh Tono, it's only expected from the commoners!" Hikaru whispered.

Haruhi scowled but didn't further express her anger at them, instead directing her fury at the Shadow King. "Well. Answer."

He looked up and cocked his head, a hand snaking up to push his glasses back into their proper place on his nose. "I will not deny that the revenue the Host Club would receive upon the dinner would launch us into a whole new level that we have never achieved during the two years we have been in business. However, I will not force Haruhi to do anything against her will."

She nodded. "Good, because I wouldn't have participated," she declared defiantly, turning on her heels and preparing to stalk out of the room.

"Mommy!" Tamaki whispered desperately. "Stop her!"

Kyouya sighed and nodded. "However, Haruhi, I do have a proposition for you."

The brown haired heroine stopped mid step, allowing her foot to hang in the air as if time stood still. "What is it?"

"I'll cut your already halved debt in half."

She shook. The offer was more than tempting. By the end of the play, she'd need only to remain in the Host Club for a few more months to pay off the rest of it. That way, she was free of all the hassle, all the responsibility, all the craziness that came with the job description.

Not to mention, it would get her away from feeling any sort of emotion when the members left for university or a position in their family's companies.

Not that she would feel any sort of emotion in the first place, but it would be nice to make sure of these sorts of things before they actually happened. There was nothing like an unprocessed thought coming back to bite someone in the a—

"Three-fourths," she responded.

Tamaki nodded, pulling at Kyouya's sleeve. "Yes, yes. Agree!"

Kyouya sighed. "No. Half."

Haruhi's shivering stopped. She turned slowly. "Why not three fourths?"

"We're not that financially capable as of yet."

"But you will be!" she snapped back.

"Even so, my only offer is half."

There was an unbearable pause of silence that threatened to drown them all as they waited for Haruhi's response. Even Honey's hand paused on its way to deposit another mouthful of cake. Everyone was poised with a breath sucked in their guts, held in to await the decision.

"Fine," she said.

They all released the breaths they were holding and looked much calmer than a few seconds before.

"You needn't all act desperate," Haruhi finally said, releasing a breath she hadn't realized _she'd_ been holding. "I would have agreed to half anyway."

"Sometimes you _do_ surprise us," Hikaru reminded her gently. "Like that time with the carriage."

"Or that time when you tried to fend off those guys at the beach," Kaoru supplied.

"Or when you actually enjoyed being on stage with the Lobelia girls," Honey said through his mouthful of cake.

"Or when you showed me around the mall," Kyouya said, nodding sagely.

"Or when you tried to help me with Honey," Mori said, though his voice was monotone and void of emotion.

"You're an amazing person, Haruhi," Hikaru said seriously.

There was a dramatic pause before Kaoru ventured, "Aren't you all wondering how this suddenly became a very sentimental moment in time where we all express our fascination with the only heroine, even though it is completely irrelevant to the earlier topic?"

Haruhi shrugged. "It doesn't matter. Just tell me what to do and it will be done. I have to go home now. My father will be waiting for me."

They all nodded, watching her go as she collected her things and began to trek her way to the door.

Once she was out in the hallway, she leaned heavily against the wall, trying to catch her breath.

Why was it that even when she wished to remain beyond infuriated with the lot of them, they pulled something like this that made her question every single decision up to her entry into the club? Why did they make her wonder if the life she was living before them was all a lie?

Right before she was ready to make her way to the bathroom (she hadn't realized she really needed to pee) she felt a hand clamp onto her shoulder, freezing her on the spot.

"Haruhi, you are amazing."

She turned to find Tamaki staring down at her, eyes lidded with something she could not identify.

"You've surprised me numerous times as well."

"Tamaki-senpai?"

"Like that time where you prevented me from making the biggest mistake of my life."

"Tamaki-senpai…"

He shook his head, raising a finger to lie gently upon her lips. "As much as I love my mother, there are people here that I love just as much."

Haruhi sighed.

Tamaki smiled.

She sighed once more.

"What's wrong?" he asked finally.

"I really need to pee."

* * *

"I don't know what they're expecting from me," Haruhi said to herself as she dried the last dish she had been washing and placed it gently on the counter beside her. She ran a hand through her hair, sighing exasperatedly as the rehearsal dinner hit her full force now that she was able to think clearly without six, gorgeous, distracting faces looking back at her.

What could they possibly want? This play, she mused, was far too elaborate, even for them. Actually, that would be a lie. There'd been numerous times before when they had done plenty of things that seemed far too extravagant, even for them. Like their "jungle theme" or their vacation spot to whatever deserted island it was. But something about this play was different.

It went beyond being simply about profit on Kyouya's part. Went beyond getting her into a dress on the Twin's part. Went beyond fatherly affection on Tamaki's part. Went beyond getting more and more cake on Honey's part. And it even went beyond taking care of Honey and Haruhi on Mori's part.

There was something more. Something like…

Rushing towards the calendar her father had nailed haphazardly on the kitchen wall, Haruhi flipped through the months (the last time her or her father had changed the month to its proper place was in October) until she reached May. She scanned the dates and stopped on the small box that read 'May 23: Play' before moving on to stop a few days later to where 'May 27: Last Day of School' was printed in large, bold letters.

And suddenly, it hit her with a greater force than the realization of having to wear a dress for the rehearsal dinner hit her. It hit her as if a giant carriage had run over her, or as if she had fallen from a high cliff into a sea of jagged rocks.

It hit her as if someone, handsome and beautiful and near-perfect, had taken her heart out from her chest and dangled it before her eyes before tossing it away like garbage before turning on his heels and walking away, towards another figure, another girl, much more beautiful and intelligent than her.

It hit her, right there, in the kitchen, the sound of her father coming home distant in her ears, that the only reason the Host Club was making this play as elaborate as they possibly could was because the last day they would all be together was far, far too near.

* * *

The preparations for the dinner went smoothly, despite the fact that the lot of them often found themselves arguing about whether or not something belonged here or there. Haruhi and Honey were never near the other members as they prepared for the special night, instead opting to sit in the corner consuming plenty of snacks to make any hungry animal keel over from overeating. Honey was never much aware of anything besides whether Haruhi had taken his last cake or not, but Haruhi found herself staring more and more constantly at the other boys as they worked to turn the Music Room into a beautiful dining hall.

The day before the night of the dinner, Haruhi was not allowed to run out of the room the moment the end of club meeting hours chimed as she had been doing during the past few weeks of preparation. She was dragged back by the usual suspects of Hikaru and Kaouru, who immediately proceeded to forcing her into one of the many plush armchairs littered around the room.

"Where do you think you're going?" Hikaru asked her, leaning close to her and watching her through narrowed eyes, his brother following suit.

"You do realize you have to stay here until our customers come by, don't you?" Kaoru asked gently, giving her disarming smile that held no affect to her by now.

She shrugged. "I'm tired of being stuck here. Just hand me the dress and I'll go put it on."

"We thought it would be better…"

"…If you received some… professional help."

Haruhi's eyes widened as she pushed herself further away from them, back straight against the chair. "No. Oh, no, no, no! I refuse. You make them stay away from me."

Two identical figures emerged from the corner of her eyes, both looking devilishly happy as they held up a dress between the two. Their eyes glinted evilly as they descended upon her, the Hitachiins cleverly moving out of the way to avoid getting run down by the other possessed Twins.

"Keep them away! No!"

And soon, Haruhi's cries were drowned out by maniacal laughter that filtered from beneath the crack of the closed door that led into the room the maid twins had pushed Haruhi into to help her prepare.

"You know, Hikaru," Kaoru said, "I'm scared of those two. Especially when they're handed pretty, soft, fabric like things that could be forced upon another seemingly innocent person like Haruhi."

"To be honest, I'm actually pretty frightened of those two myself." Hikaru's eyes were still set on the closed door, trying to ignore the cries of help interlaced with curses he'd never heard. "Guess we should consider ourselves lucky they work for us, no?"

"It would seem so…"

* * *

"Sometimes, I must truly ask myself how a man like you could possibly achieve higher exam scores," Kyouya observed, bowing his head towards Tamaki as the blonde stared critically into the mirror, fingers dancing across his forehead as he moved his bands this way and that. "You're far too vain for your own good and have no sense of direction whatsoever. You seemingly fail at expressing your innermost feelings and then feel devastated when others cannot guess to them."

The blonde turned away from the mirror to stare at the Shadow King, large violet eyes wide and unblinking. "Were you saying something just then?"

The dark haired, bespectacled man sighed in exasperation, shaking his head in dismay. "You're a paradox; you realize that, don't you? Absurd in every way. You are incredibly wealthy and speak of the common folk as if they're otherworldly creatures, yet you were one once yourself. You seem high and mighty, and you drone on about the sincerities of life and those you love, yet you are incapable to tell the person you do love how you feel." Pushing his glasses up his nose, he turned to stare at Honey and Mori as the "younger" of the two reached for something on a shelf too high for him to reach. "Except… I know the answers to these perplexities. You are just Suoh Tamaki, this… person none of us could truly peg down to a label. I once heard someone express this fabulously famous celebrity during an interview. The person compared them to a butterfly—that try as you might to stick the pin through their wings, they'd only go through and the butterfly would escape."

"Kyouya? What are you going on about?"

"We have very little time left to spend together. I only wish you could see as I see that we will not always be together. There comes a time where people must part, as it is a normal thing in life. But it would be cruel if feelings were unexpressed and buried deep within. Do not allow that to happen, Tamaki. As your best friend, listen to my advice."

Tamaki, as intelligent as he was, could only stare at the Shadow King in confusion. "Well, alright."

"Oi, Tono, everyone has arrived for the dinner." A flustered Hitachiin came rushing through the secret doors that led into the secluded room the others inhabited. "We should get started soon."

Tamaki smiled genuinely, standing with a flourish. "And where is our lovely bride?"

The other Hitachiin, the older one, appeared just in time, with a very lovely heroine on his arm. "Here she is."

Tamaki nodded, gulping as he made his way towards them, Kyouya, Honey and Mori by his heels. He took Haruhi's hand in his own, holding it lightly as he turned her to face the larger doors that would open to the dinner party.

He ignored the feeling of his heart doing summersaults in his chest as the image of Haruhi in her rehearsal dinner dress replayed rapidly through his mind, and focused at the task at hand.

There was a dinner to be made underway, and he would see that it was one that would be remembered for ever in the Club's history.

* * *

It was like a real rehearsal dinner. There were laughs and sighs and gasps, filled with moments of pure amusement. The guests all 'ahh-ed' at the sight of such a feminine looking boy in such a pretty, and controversial, short dress, with the perfect little hat and white veil covering his pretty face. The fangirls squealed at the sight of the perfect male holding his 'dearly beloved' so close by his side. The males invited to the dinner rolled their eyes in disgust at their girlfriends, sisters, and classmates. And somehow, the dinner was perfect.

It occurred to Haruhi, sitting by Tamaki's side, watching as he interacted with his fans, conversed with his friends, and smiled, that he was someone she could never truly come to understand. He was a rich bastard, she knew, but somewhere in between, he'd managed to become just a bit more. In between his dramatic gestures, his infective smiles, his genuine concern in others, and his ability to look her way for just a moment even as he entertained others, it made her realize that there was more to the Suoh Tamaki she knew. And it scared her, truly and utterly scared her that her heart stirred at this realization and that it didn't mind getting to know more of this Suoh Tamaki.

And perhaps it scared her most of all that her heart, however unsettled it was, due to one realization or indigestion of such amazingly good food, when he looked her way once more, with that disarming smile of his on his good natured and handsome face, could send her careening into an abyss of unknown emotion so fast that it made her brain flash a warning sign that read: "Warning: You have now fallen in love."

* * *

**AN**: Haha! Aren't you all happy to see me again?

Eh, I don't know how to explain myself or the author's note chapter I posted a few months back. Call it an act of desperation or a crazy woman's ranting or some random schoolgirl trying to explain the crap that goes on in her life. Whatever it was, I'm happy to say that it still controls most of my life.

Is that a good thing?

I don't know. There isn't much I can say concerning it. As a person, you define your character and learn to change. You experience things, accepting new feelings and letting go of old ones. You change and evolve to fit your situation. You go on through life, accepting its flow.

So I guess that's how I am right now. Just going with the flow. Not trying to swim against it 'cause I'm still too tired for that kind of exertion. But I like to think I'm fighting back just a little, by making myself sit down and write this chapter. It isn't brilliant or amazing, and I've noticed my writing style has changed considerably since I began the story. But that's all I can really say in regards to it.

Oh, and that it'll end soon enough. Maybe in two or three more chapters. I'm not sure yet.

Thank you to all the readers who stuck by me, to the reviewers who left such encouraging reviews. They all hit home with me, and made me want to come back to writing all the more. I read each and every one a million times through, and I'm so glad I did.

So thanks a billion times. You guys are absolutely amazing.


	10. In Which the Wedding is Performed

Chapter Nine  
_In Which the Wedding is Performed_

She woke up feeling sick. Horribly sick. The kind of sick that made a person want to crawl into a hole in the ground and die a rather cruel, harsh death where the top caved in and buried them in burning, poisoned, radioactive soil rather than stay in bed and live with whatever ails them. That was the type of sick she felt, and she only felt worse when she actually climbed out of bed to go use the bathroom and happened to pass by the calendar tacked neatly on the wooden door in her room.

She groaned, feeling sicker than before, small hands lifting to rub tiredly at her temples, willing the sudden headache to go away.

This was not happening. The day had come far too soon. She was sure she was dreaming, and that in only a moment, she'd wake up in her bed, feeling perfectly fine, and about three weeks before that particular date.

"Honey dearest!" The curt knock on her door made her attention snap back to the present, and her head ache even more. The door opened a moment later, her father standing behind, void of any makeup and dress and clad instead in faded sweats and a wrinkled shirt.

"Dad," she whispered, still rubbing at her temples.

He frowned. "…You just got up?"

She nodded slowly, turning away to head back to the bathroom.

"Maybe you should stay home today… You don't look so well."

She shrugged. "Play today."

"But I'm sure they would understand if you're feeling sick or unwell or… what if you're dying?! What if you actually have a brain tumor and this is our only chance to take you to the hospital and rescue you!"

She groaned. "If something happens, I'm sure Kyouya-sempai will take care of it."

"Haruhi-i-i-i."

She headed into the bathroom and closed the door behind her, leaving her father, his concerns, and her own unease on the other side.

* * *

"Takashi, what kind of cake will there be?"

Mori grunted and held up the vest his cousin was supposed to wear, and scrutinized it before setting it back on the bed and smoothing a large hand over the tiny wrinkles he had spotted. "Many types."

"Like strawberry?"

"Yes."

"And chocolate?"

"Yes."

"Even vanilla?"

"Of course."

"How about kiwi? And plum? And grape?"

"Most probably." There was a pause as the tiny vest was raised and handed over carefully to the small teenager who was sitting at his portable dining table, already digging into a slice of cake from his personal storage. "Here. Put this on when you're finished."

"I hope there will be lots and lots of cake!"

"I'm sure there will."

"Takashi."

"Yes?"

Honey sighed and placed his spoon carefully on the plate, ignoring the bite that was still left. "Do you think the play will be a success?"

"Of course."

"…I don't really want to leave just yet."

"We'll visit."

"But… it won't be the same."

"No."

"…What if they forget us?"

"They won't."

"What if something happens and Haruhi has to leave and then Tamaki is heartbroken and then the Twins get mad and Kyouya loses some money?"

"They'll be able to handle it."

"Do you think Tama-chan is going to tell Haru-chan how he feels?"

"Perhaps."

"We're really going to come back and visit?"

"Promise."

* * *

"Young masters, it is time for you to wake up."

Hikaru groaned and threw a hand over his eyes, blocking out the sun that streamed in through the large windows of his and Kaoru's shared room. But even so, light still trickled through the small spaces between his fingers, and he gave up and stirred into full consciousness, glaring at the maids while he did it.

"Brother, it's finally the day," Kaoru whispered from his side, an arm snaking around Hikaru's torso to pull himself up.

"Yeah. Do you think everything is going to go okay?"

"Knowing Tono, I doubt it."

"But it really isn't our place or concern, right?"

"Right. We can only be there and show our support and make Tono confess."

Hikaru scowled, closing his eyes and shaking his head. "I don't know why it's the way it is. I mean, Haruhi could be with someone much better."

Kaoru stared at his brother fondly, brows furrowed questioningly. He knew what his twin was feeling, could see it written clearly across his face. And if there was something to be done for Hikaru, he wished he could do it.

"Hikaru… feelings are something a person can't really argue or try to rationalize. It just happens. Just like how your feelings for Haruhi just happened. Tamaki can't choose who he loves, and neither can Haruhi. But because you love both of them, you should be happy that they might find some type of happiness together."

Hikaru turned his head sharply to glare at his brother before his eyes softened and he heaved a sigh. "You make it sound like they're really getting married."

Kaoru nodded and leaned back into the pillow. "Who knows? That may happen in only a few years or so."

* * *

"I don't understand why you allowed that young man to follow through with his ridiculous notion of a play. You are wasting my valuable time in requesting my presence there."

Kyouya nodded. "Yes, sir."

"And you know how much I dislike his father."

"Only because he has specifically stated that he will not allow you to force the scholarship student and me into a relationship that will benefit you."

"Because he's greedy and selfish and wants the girl for his own son!"

"That may be so, but in the end, the young lady will have her own choice in the matter. In fact, she may not go for me or the young Suoh."

"Why do you act like this does not concern you? You show little emotional regard for this matter!"

Kyouya smiled and pushed his glasses up along his nose with a finger. "That is where you're mistaken, Father. I have every bit of emotional regard for the situation. In fact, I am completely emotionally involved. There's such a thing as wishing happiness for your friends, even if it means having to avoid your own."

* * *

"I feel sick!"

Mister Suoh rolled his eyes and slapped his son—hard—on the back, ignoring the sputtering sound the latter made as he doubled forward from the impact.

"Man up, my son! You must take this event and stride forwards, with your head held high and all Suoh pride on your shoulders! You are a Suoh! You will only triumph! You will go into that play, and you will get that girl to marry you in a heartbeat!"

"But… she's my daughter! It's frowned upon!"

Mister Suoh shook his head and pushed his son into the changing room. "No! You will not back out of this simply because you call the lovely Miss Fujioka Haruhi your daughter! You will be victorious in your battle of love!"

There was a choking sound from behind the closed doors before Tamaki's face appeared in the tiny crack of an opening door. "What?! Love?! What're you talking about?!"

"Oh Son, I feel so wonderful seeing you finally married to such a decent girl! The Suoh name will live on in glory, all because of the beautiful, wonderful match the two of you will make!"

"Dad, Dad! It's a play!"

"Go forth, my son! And conquer!"

* * *

He was beyond nervous. There was fluttering in his stomach as he greeted the audience, thanking them profusely in the most animated language and inviting them to drinks, deserts, and all types of delicacies after the show. He was incredibly surprised at the turn out, staring at Kyouya incredulously, silently asking if Shadow King had anything to do with the amount of people sitting in the auditorium, students, staff, parents, and even friends included. But the Shadow King only shrugged and moved on to more important and pressing things, like the light fixtures or the costume, leaving Tamaki alone to contemplate the amount of people gathered to watch him marry another "boy."

"Do you think the play will go as planned?" he asked one of the Twins, who was slipping into his costume.

Kaoru turned and nodded slowly. "Of course. It will always go as Kyouya has planned, won't it?"

"I have never doubted Mother's wonderful, if not sly, shadow work. If it does not go as planned, he will make believe it has, and if that is so, we have no other choice but to believe it as well."

He waltzed around backstage, carefully throwing out random orders that the actors would not have followed otherwise, had he not been saying them out of desperation and nervousness. He was even told by his best friend to take a seat to calm his "poor nerves" which seemed on the brink of breaking loose and wreaking utter havoc.

"Tamaki."

The blonde looked up in an instant, violet eyes beseeching Kyouya for something even he could not figure out. His best friend only nodded and looked towards the stage. "We're starting."

"Ah. Yes. Very well."

"Tamaki?"

"Yes, Kyouya?"

"Remember what I said. After all, the Host Club ends today."

* * *

They were all standing where they were supposed to be. X marked the spot, and all hands, and feet, and awkwardly bent legs were in their position. Tamaki stood before the "priest" with an awkward smile in place, hands held behind his back even though they shook with a fierce ferocity he didn't know was possible.

"And now, the bride."

There was a collected hush before the audience filled with students, staff, and parents as they all turned to look behind them, where the "bride" was supposed to walk down the aisle, in hand with her father.

After a few moments, there was a gasp that filled the room as the "bride" stepped out.

She felt nervous. There were butterflies slamming themselves into her ribcage, and her heart seemed ready to burst out of her throat in a fit of madness. Her hands felt clammy as she held on to the bouquet as if it were a lifesaver. And the train of her dress felt as if it were lagging behind her, dragging her slowly and slowly back towards her starting place, making her have to go through the entire walk once more.

And she didn't understand why everyone was staring. Didn't understand why Tamaki's eyes seemed wider than ever or why even Kyouya seemed unable to properly scribble into his notebook.

Not until Kaoru leaned in and whispered, "You look beautiful."

And it scared her. Frightened the hell out of her. She was a plain girl with plain features. She was a "natural," something not to be made a fuss over. Nothing extraordinary. She couldn't see why something as simple as a still life painting could be considered phenomenal, breathtaking, and awe-inspiring.

Because to her, a still life was a still life. It held no extravagance, held no particular depth or underlying meaning. It was simply a bowl of fruit depicted as they were in nature, with a shadow here and lighting there, and the occasional window to the far right corner.

She couldn't see that the shadow itself brought out the light, or that the orange was not particularly orange but yellow and red and white and brown. She couldn't see that the grapes were never truly round or that the plum was never truly purple. It escaped her, these simple things. That beyond the perfection that was portrayed in the painting, there was a sort of imperfection that made it complete. Just like her short hair and pale skin and lack of height and lack of breasts made her that much more Haruhi.

Or maybe she would have seen it. Maybe.

If she weren't so completely engrossed by the slight smile a certain blonde had playing over his lips, or how she saw those same lips form the words "How beautiful" under his breath.

* * *

She was beyond beautiful, he thought. He actually argued with his own logic and proclaimed her astonishing beauty to be beyond the standard labels of beauty. He had always been one to love every type of woman, regardless of their looks. But here came a creature so wonderful, so ethereal, so godly that he was sure that he could never find another woman quite like her to make him completely forget himself.

Because he was sure there could never be another woman (for how could he consider her a girl, even less his daughter, the way she looked now) to look so stunning in that dress. No other woman could be in that off-white gown, with the small, tiny pearls inlaid all around. No woman could have her waist cinched as so, or the curve of her hips so detailed. He couldn't imagine another woman having her dress swish at her calves, or the sleeves slip off her shoulders like so. He couldn't see another girl behind that veil, with the little pearls knit into the netting, or the small crown of white flowers atop her head. He couldn't imagine brown eyes staring at him so expectantly, unless they were hers.

She stopped at his side, and he noticed she was shaking uncontrollably, and that her tiny feet were shifting uncomfortably, as if pained by the heels. But she didn't utter a word, not a sound, and instead stared forward.

He watched her, ignoring the speech prepared by his best friend.

And suddenly, as he heard his best friend ask for them to say their vows, as he reached into the back pocket of his white slacks, as he brought out the white index cards with his perfect handwriting, he knew he was in love.

And completely screwed.

She turned to look at him, clearly annoyed. She didn't really want to be there. Her headache seemed to be pounding ceaselessly at her skull, and she wanted nothing more than to be in bed, huddled under the covers, far away from the day that proclaimed the ending of a legacy she didn't realize she'd come to treasure.

He handed her an index card. The lines of her vows that no body wanted her to see until the actual day of the play. But before she could utter the words, written so clearly in blue ink, he was already stumbling through half-rehearsed lines that even he found awkward to say.

"Oh dearest Haruhi, light of my life. You are the h-hope I have always…" his bright eyes looked down briefly before looking up and alit with inspiration. "You are the hope I have always searched for. And through the lands have I looked for your healing…" another pause, "love that has inspired me to ask for your hand and bring us to this wonderful day. Although our pasts…" He stopped completely. Didn't bother to look down. Instead, he stared into her eyes for such a long moment he drew the attention of his friend.

"Tamaki?"

"Forget this." He threw down the index card and took Haruhi's hands into his own. "I have never quite understood why my heart felt so horribly sick every time I looked at you. And it goes beyond my understanding of whatever it is I feel when I look at you. It goes beyond comprehension, goes beyond words, goes beyond whatever limit there is when it comes to it. Because when I look at you, I feel my heart race; when I watch you smile at anyone, because you hardly ever smile at _me_, I feel my hands become clammy and sweat line my neck; when you brush past me and I feel you for just a moment, I feel as if I've been given the chance to watch a goddess in mortal form tread before my very presence. And perhaps it doesn't make any sort of coherent sense, and perhaps I'm just rambling on as I normally do, but I cannot express how much my heart is overwhelmed with you. Because honestly, there can be no other reason as to why I feel this way other than that I completely, utterly, wholeheartedly, with every fiber of my being, love you."

Kyouya's mouth was open in shock. Kaoru had a small grin in place. Hikaru was struggling to keep quiet. Honey was giggling and jumping up and down. Mori only smirked and hummed in agreement.

And Haruhi only stared, dumbfounded, and quite unsure of what to say.

Until she reached up, wrapped her small hands around Suoh Tamaki's neck, and pulled him down, brushing her lips against his in a desperate attempt to convey the feelings she couldn't voice aloud.

And when Tamaki placed his hands on her waist, lifting her slightly, angling his head to deepen a kiss he had never quite expected, she felt her world crumble around her in bliss.

That is, until a very loud and very angry voice filled the room.

"GET YOUR DIRTY HANDS AND LIPS OFF MY DAUGHTER!"

* * *

_In Which an Ending of Sorts is Included_

"Hard to believe that after a year of acting as a male, the entire world found out I was anything but."

There was lighthearted laughter following the words, and an older Haruhi hid her reddening face behind small hands. She felt large hands ruffle her still-short hair, and she turned to watch Mori grin back at her, undoubtedly remembering the one event that culminated the experience of the Host Club.

They were all united; all seven bodies in the Music Room that had been cleaned out two weeks and three days after Honey and Mori had graduated. There was dust clinging to every single thing, from the pillars to the windows to the white-sheet covered furniture Tamaki and Kyouya had been too lazy to reclaim.

Hikaru laid leisurely on one of the chaise lounges, long legs dangling over the side, and arm thrown over the headrest, fingers playing with the gold plated embellishments into the wood. Kaoru sat in a chair beside his brother, smiling quietly to himself, observing the friends he had somehow managed to keep in contact with even after all this time away from Japan and spent elsewhere in Italy, Milan and England. Kyouya claimed a seemingly throne like chair for himself, legs crossed, notebook carefully balanced on one hand even as he scribbled away into it with the other. Mori sat beside Honey, holding out a napkin lazily for the short boy, although he had grown considerably in the last four years. And Honey sat with tiptoes finally reaching the floor, forkful of cake mulling in his mouth as he crinkled his eyes in amusement.

"It's really been four years," Haruhi observed, leaning carefully into the armrest, elbows resting, head in her hands.

"It's done wonders for your breasts," Kaoru observed, and she only blushed and ordered him to shush in return, using her arms to block the breasts that had bloomed, although Hikaru often teased her that they were yet to be anything to remark positively about.

"How _has_ sex been for the two of you?" Hikaru asked, grinning impishly as he saw Haruhi and the blonde King blush three types of red as they refused to look at each other.

"Pianists have wonderful fingers, no?" Kaoru added, watching as Haruhi gasped throwing a small ornament from the table at him and Tamaki blushing, sliding further into his seat.

The rest of the members observed that the two really were an interesting couple. And although all had seen each other plenty, and especially the newly engaged couple, they had never been united as one, and it was only time that would bring them into their joking manners once more.

Kyouya, who was watching the two interact as he made careful notes, truly allowed himself to feel envious of the blonde. The blonde was not only incredibly kind, and generous, and far too in touch with his own emotions, but he had also gotten the girl. The one that nobody thought much of but was found to be incredible the second time one looked at her. And the way he saw the blonde reach his hand to stroke her hair, and the way her eyes shifted to stare at him and the way the little lines formed at the corners of her brown orbs and the slight smile pull at her lips, seemed only to reinforce the analogy that the art collector had found his most valuable piece. And although others may have called it ordinary and plain, he could see that it held more wonders in the curves of the paint, in the small crack of the bowl, in the way the young woman holding the apple to her lips was not extraordinarily beautiful or intelligent, but wholesomely extraordinary.

_Fin_.

* * *

**AN: The story has finally, finally been finished. No, they didn't really get married. No, nothing spectacular happened. But it's an ending that I really like, because to me, there would be no Host Club with Honey and Mori; a romance would not have blossomed if there continued to be a Host Club; and they were bound to grow up, mature, and accept their responsibilities and emotions like "adults." **

**So please, please, PLEASE review. It's the last chapter. Come on, show some love. All of you who have reviewed before, thank you, and please review again. All those who have been reading and have yet to review, please think of doing so now. And those who are new, feel free to abuse the little review box and tell me how WONDERFUL I am cough. **

**Come on. You guys know you want to.**

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